Pick Your Poison
by XxAngelWithWingsxX
Summary: Love hurts. We all know that. But can you give yourself into love? Especially after years of thinking it didn't exist? Clary/ Jace AU All human.
1. Prologue

**Alright first, this story used to be a Maximum Ride fic for those of you getting alerts. But I changed it to Mortal Instruments because I have a better inspiration for that one. And I just can't get enough of those all human fics for Jace and Clary so I thought I would write one myself! I hope you enjoy it. **

**Here's the prologue.**

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**Prologue**

Love hurts. We all know that. You can't feel love without feeling pain.

And you can't give love without giving pain.

But now, after being deluded into thinking love didn't exist, I have come to a very important question:

Will love hurt?

I look at my past, and the scars on my body. They all are telling me to turn away. That I'm just going to hurt myself even more.

But there's another pull; telling me that love is all there is to life. If you get it right.

I could easily choose to continue on my own, living this life I already have, alone.

But what if I miss the chance and regret it later?

Someday, I know I'll have to

Pick My Poison.

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**How was that? I little emotional, but I liked it^^**

**Review; tell me your ideas, your opinions, and whatever.**

**Just. Review!**


	2. Chapter 1

**And here is the first real chapter of the story. A few quick notes; Clary is slightly ooc for the first couple parts. Only Jace can bring out that feistiness ;)I believe that for the most part it'll be Clary's pov, unless I find it necessary to have it in Jace's, which is very likely. Also, this is my first big project in a while, aside from the ending of The Love of Fighting and Fighters. I'm taking it much more serious than my other big work, Twilight Wings, because in all honesty, I was still a child when I started that story. I feel like my writing has improved by a lot since then.**

**I had posted the idea for this story two years ago. I find it amazing that I'm starting it now :D**

**I hope you like!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Cassandra Clare, while the plot of this story belongs to me.**

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Clary looked up at the faded building in front of her. The shingles on the roof were tattered and falling apart from years of use and lack of repair. The door had lost its color due to overexposure to sunlight and the windows were bleak and lacking curtains. It looked dreary and lifeless, as any stereotypical orphanage should seem.

She had spent the last six years here, a blur of time that had no definition for Clary. All those years had passed by in a blink, yet they still felt much too long. The other girls there thought she was a freak who refused to talk, and stayed as far away from her as they could. She didn't mind; Clary preferred to be left alone anyways.

The life had drained out of her when her mother had died in a car crash, the last link of family that she had. Clary had been ten years old at the time, and the doctors said it was a miracle that she had survived, but she was left with no one to take care of her. Then she was sent here, to pass the time until someone thought she was worth taking in. There weren't very many people looking for ten year old girls, though. Most of the visitors to the orphanage were searching for babies to raise as their own, and passed over the older children. Clary simply had to stay and wait for someone to finally take her away from the loveless place.

She guessed that time was now.

Standing behind her, Luke Garroway put a hand on her shoulder. Clary turned to look at him, wondering if she was going to be happy with him. He had small brown eyes that crinkled in the corners and a mat of gray-brown hair that fell over his forehead. His face had a rough, hard look that somehow looked kind at the same time. He looked down at her with a sad smile, as if he knew what was going through her head right now.

"It's time to go," he said, offering her a small smile. Luke picked up the lonely suitcase that sat on the ground beside Clary, stowing it away in his pickup truck. Clary climbed into the passenger seat next to him and buckled in, then rolled down her window so she could feel the breeze of the autumn day. Casting one last glance to the orphanage, she tried to prepare herself for her new life.

She looked over to Luke. He had insisted that she call him that when they had met to start the adoption process. Clary still couldn't figure out why she had chosen her of all the girls in the orphanage. She was the quietest there and most of the hopeful adopters didn't even spare her a glance when they came. But when Luke had come in, it seemed that he was looking specifically for her, as if he knew she was there. They had met a dozen times to get to know each other, and Clary liked Luke in all honesty. He was a nice man and wasn't troubled to go out of his way to do something nice for Clary. It was something she wasn't used to.

After an hour of driving, Luke stopped in front of an old farmhouse in the more suburban area of New York. It was completely different from the orphanage, which had been very close to the lights and sounds of the city. It was calmer here, more akin to a countryside than a city. Clary liked it at once; the first thought in her head was that it would provide great inspirations for her art.

Luke picked her suitcase up and led her to the door. The house looked welcoming and neatly kept and showed signs of  
Luke's success as a famous author and later the owner of his own bookstore. Using his free hand to grab his keys, he opened the door and showed Clary inside.

Clary decided quickly that she liked the house. It wasn't tacky or overly decorated, instead tastefully painted and carpeted and dotted with a few large, interesting paintings here and there.

One of the paintings caught her eye, and she stopped dead in her tracks to stare at it. Clary recognized the style immediately, seeing something that she sometimes saw in her own paintings. It was the unmistakable mark of her mother's artwork.

She turned to Luke with questions in her eyes, suddenly unable to speak again. He looked over to the painting and sighed wistfully.

"We'll talk tonight alright?" Luke promised, his eyes still on the painting. "First, I want to get you settled in. Come along now."

He started towards the stairs and Clary followed with only a slight hesitation. There was apparently more to Luke's wish to adopt her than she thought. At the top of the stairs, Clary saw a hall with even more of Jocelyn Fray's paintings, and multiple doors that led to various rooms.

Luke stopped by the first door on the right and motioned for her to go in first. Clary stepped forward and peered inside, surprised by what she saw.

It was everything that she had ever wanted in a room, but could not have at the orphanage. The walls were painted a bright teal color and the ceiling was a dark blue with light up stars. The bedspread and curtains matched the walls and there was a large blue rug on the hardwood floor. It was amazing.

"I seem to remember you saying something about liking the color blue during one of our talks at the orphanage," Luke said almost bashfully, smiling hesitantly as he watched for her reactions.

"Luke, thank you," Clary told him, trying her best to convey her happiness in a smile. She felt closer to this man when she saw what he had prepared for her, and thought that maybe she actually would enjoy staying with him. It promised to be far better than the orphanage, at least.

He smiled back, obviously pleased that she was happy. "That's not all, Clary," he said, and pointed to a door on one side of the room. Clary had missed it in her earlier inspection, but now she walked in and headed towards it, Luke close behind.

Curious, she pulled on the doorknob, tugging the door open–and gasped.

It was an art room, full of canvases and art supplies. But the most beautiful feature was the gigantic window that faced west, and in full view was the sunset along the plains of the land. It was her favorite time to paint, but she couldn't imagine how Luke knew this.

Clary turned around and ran to Luke and hugged him, surprising herself with her enthusiasm.

"Whoa there," he chuckled, obviously startled as well. Luke hugged her back though, clearly glad that she liked it.

"I don't know how you did it, but thank you so much," Clary murmured into his arms as she hugged him. She was grateful that he had put so much effort into this, and couldn't have imagined a better person to adopt her.

Luke disentangled himself from the hug and looked at Clary. "I'll let you set up and get used to the house," Luke told her, smiling as he watched her continue to look around the art room. "Dinner will be ready in a little while, alright?"

Clary nodded and turned to watch as he left.

She headed back into her room and pulled the suitcase open. Clary spent a few minutes organizing her clothes into the empty closet and stowed the suitcase in the corner of it before plopping down on the soft bed. She thought back to the orphanage and pondered on how different life was there. Looking up at the star-lit ceiling, she thought she felt free. Much freer than at the orphanage, and maybe even less reserved. It seemed like Luke knew her more than he let on, but he made her feel comfortable.

After a while of thinking and toying with the contents of the art room, Clary made her way down the stairs to dinner, her heart clenching every time she passed one of her mother's paintings. She hadn't been given much at the orphanage, but they had provided her with replications of her mother's artworks and art supplies to try and break Clary out of her shell. If anything, it had just saddened her more to have physical representations of what she had lost, but she did still use the art supplies, if only to feel closer to her mother.

Luke glanced up when she sat down at the table, and smiled. He gestured to the pizza boxes that were lying on the end of the table.

"I wasn't sure what you would like so I just ordered pizza for today. Starting from tomorrow I'll be your personal chef," he gave her a wink, "Sound alright?"

Clary nodded and accepted the plate of pizza that he handed her.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, but after a while Clary couldn't keep the questions that were swirling in her mind from coming out of her mouth.

"Luke..." she started tentatively. He paused mid-bite to look at her.

"Why did you adopt me?"

Luke paused, then put down his slice of pizza and looked at her intently. He sighed softly, and wiped his hands on a napkin.

"I knew your mother," he admitted, his voice quiet as he looked down at his plate.

Clary stared at him in silence, letting this sink in and waiting for him to continue.

He continued, "It was years ago, and we were both in high school. You could say I was a best friend of hers, but we went different ways after she became obsessed with your father." Luke looked up at her again and studied her face. "Did you know your father?"

Clary shook her head wordlessly. She vaguely remembered her mother saying that he was the biggest mistake of her life, and refused to say any more whenever Clary had approached the subject. He had been absent from her entire life, and she hadn't thought much of it since the car crash.

"Well Clary, all I have to say is that he was not a nice man," Luke sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "He was charming though, and Jocelyn fell for him immediately. I couldn't keep her away from him, so I decided it would be best if I wasn't a part of her life, though I regret it now. I could have saved her from a lot."

"Then how did you find me?" Clary asked. Her pizza lay in front of her, only half eaten but completely forgotten.

"There was an article in the newspaper for the orphanage, accompanied by a picture of some of the children, "Luke explained. "You were in it, and I recognized your face immediately, so I came to see if it really was you. You look just like your mother, you know that?" He gave her a small smile and studied her features, "She was just as beautiful."

Clary blushed hard at that. "So you decided to take me in just because you knew my mother?" she asked, eager to divert to another topic. She wasn't quite comfortable with compliments yet after living without them for so long.

"I felt like I owed it to Jocelyn. And I can't stand the thought of having her daughter living in a place like that," he answered and looked down at his plate again, his eyes full of regret.

"Thank you again then," Clary said, "that place was hell,"

Luke chuckled at her blunt description. "It was my pleasure," he assured her. "I'm off to bed now, okay? I would like you to start school in a few days, if that's all right with you."

Butterflies jumped in Clary's stomach. She nodded slowly at Luke and tried not to let the discomfort show on her face. She had always been homeschooled with the other girls at the orphanage, and the thought of going to a public school made her nervous. "I guess that's okay," Clary replied quietly. She should have realized that being adopted would mean an introduction back into public schools.

"Alright then kiddo. G'night," Luke murmured, getting up and taking his plate into the kitchen.

With that she went upstairs into the warmth of her new bed, feeling better than she had in six years. She had a good feeling about this place, even with the thought of public schooling.

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**So whatcha think?**

**Like it?**

**Don't like it?**

**Marshmallows are cool?**

**Leave a review!**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	3. Chapter 2

**I didn't get much feedback for the chapter… **

**But oh well! Moving along.**

**This chapter is more of Clary's background and her personality as well as why she developed that personality. It might get a little uhm, saddening? **

**I hope you like :D**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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The bright sun filtering through the teal curtains awakened Clary, and for a moment she wondered where she was. Those definitely were not the curtains that adorned her one dreary window in the orphanage. She blinked against the brightness and sat up, feeling like she had slept on feathers. For the first time in years, her back wasn't protesting from a restless night of sleeping on shitty spring mattresses.

So she had brightly colored curtains and a decent mattress– she was definitely not in the orphanage. So where was she?

She looked around at her new room, and yesterday's events came flooding back to her; her elatedness after seeing her new room, and her surprise at Luke being an old friend of her mother's. But the emotion she felt most of all was her gratitude at being given a new life.

The clock on the wall opposite her bed said that it was 10:00 AM, and she smiled to herself as she remembered the strict orders of the mistress of the orphanage; every child must be awake by 5:30 in the morning. Shuddering, she thought of the consequences of not waking up in time. Clary was glad that she was finally out of that place.

Stepping out of her room, she stuck her head out into the hallway and heard Luke making breakfast downstairs. She decided she would first get ready for the day before she went downstairs, and returned to her room to retrieve clean clothes to put on after her shower.

Luke had pointed out the bathroom that was to be hers, and when she went inside she practically squealed at what she saw. It was enormous for a bathroom. A large tub sat against the back wall, while a full length mirror over a wide counter took up most of another wall and the large shower took up the last wall. She faced the mirror with a smile on her lips from gazing around the room, but automatically frowned at what she saw.

_These damn curls, _she thought. Clary pulled open a drawer in the counter, and smiled as she managed to find a brush inside, alongside a comb and a package of soap. She pulled it out and began to comb through her hair viciously. Clary had been the only redhead at the orphanage and that fact had just helped in alienating her further. Her bright green eyes hadn't helped much either to blend into the crowd. Most of the other girls there were brown-eyed, and scowled at her difference from them. To make matters worse, her diminutive height gave her the impression that she was weak, and she was always targeted for acts of bullying.

Clary quickly finished brushing her hair, and pushed aside the thoughts of that accursed place. Clary reached to take off her shirt, but stopped abruptly, her breath hitching. She slowly turned away from the mirror before she took it all the way off, not wanting to see the reflection that would be shown there. She finished undressing before reaching over to turn on the water in the tub. She let the hot water start to fill the tub and turned back to get her shampoo and soap from the counter. As she walked back to the water, her eyes couldn't help but to wander to the mirror.

Covering most of Clary's back were scars, some faded while others were still in the process of healing. Her eyes watered as each scar brought back a different memory. She tore her eyes away from the mirror and ran over to the tub before carefully stepping in and slipping down into its warmth.

Clary couldn't stop the sobs that escaped her throat as she thought back to those years. She had wanted to forget about them, start a whole new life with Luke. But the scars that covered her body kept her from doing just that. They were physical reminders of everything she had been through. Her heart broke all over again as memories of those events took over her mind.

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_Five years ago…_

_Clary was still new to the orphanage. She shied away from all the adults that had come to visit, her mind still hanging onto that car crash, and refused to talk to anybody there. To her misfortune, that day was the day that the inspector came to visit. It was a surprise inspection, and the lady had caught them unprepared; Clary had not been warned of how to behave._

_She looked over at the girls, smiling, until her eyes fell on Clary. She was sitting in a corner by herself, her hair shielding her face from view. The inspector came over to her and touched her arm, and Clary leaped up and ran away, screaming at the physical contact._

_That night, the mistress of the orphanage came to her room and locked the door behind her. Before she said anything, she backhanded Clary across the face, sending Clary sprawling to the floor._

"_You idiot child!_ _Do you not know what you have done?" the mistress shrieked and lashed out at Clary again. Clary tried to scream, but before she could, the mistress' heeled boot came down on her chest and effectively shut her up, sending all the breath whooshing out of her body._

_The other girls had already learned to stay away from the mistress, and to do everything in their power to please her. But after that night, Clary refused to do so. She wouldn't make that woman happy even if it meant her own suffering. _

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_Four years ago…_

_Clary was in line for the food and the lunch lady, feeling sorry for Clary, had decided to give her a slightly bigger helping that the rest of the girls. Clary had been ecstatic at the time, not knowing that it would cause her a lot of trouble later._

_She sat down by herself at her usual table, not making eye contact with any of the other girls. However, one of the girls caught sight of her plate and sauntered over to where she was sitting._

"_And why do you have that much shit on your plate?" she asked nastily, through her nasally voice. Clary believed that her name was Kaelie, but she didn't think she really wanted to find out for sure. This girl had a reputation for treating the other girls like dirt and sucking up to the adults._

_Clary only shrugged, keeping her head down._

_Kaelie reached over to her plate, continuing on. "Well don't you think it would be fair to share some?" _

_Clary instinctively pulled her plate back from Kaelie's hands, and Kaelie snarled at her. She reached over as if to hit Clary, before halting abruptly. Clary flinched, but Kaelie only looked over to where the mistress was sitting and decided that it would be best not to cause a scene right there. She cast one last look of hatred at Clary, and stomped back towards her own table._

_That night, Kaelie cornered Clary at the shared bathroom, locking them in alone._

"_Well Clary, I think I should teach you a lesson, now shouldn't I?" she started, her voice sickly sweet. "No one should get special treatment here. We're all as miserable as the next person." Kaelie advanced towards Clary, one hand behind her back._

_Clary stood silently, refusing to be intimidated by her. Kaelie was twice Clary's size and she knew that she couldn't fight her, but Clary would not give up the satisfaction of showing the other girl she scared her._

_Kaelie grabbed Clary's arm and brought out the hand that was behind her back. In her hand was one of the plastic knives from the cafeteria._

_Clary felt a current of cold fear whip through her body as she stared silently at the knife. _

_Kaelie flipped Clary around and ripped the back of Clary's shirt up over her head, baring her back. Clary felt a sting of pain as Kaelie brought down the knife to cut a jagged line stretching from Clary's shoulder to the middle of her back. Clary let out a single gasp of pain and tried to keep herself from screaming._

_Kaelie cut Clary over and over again, until her entire back was covered in rough red lines. Silent tears streamed down Clary's face as she struggled to get free, but Kaelie was too strong for her to break away from. Kaelie only let her go once she heard someone outside walking past the bathroom, and by then Clary could barely see as the pain and tears clouded her vision._

_Clary went back to her bed bloody and missing her mother more than ever._

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_Two years ago…_

_Clary had long surpassed the age that most adults wanted to adopt children of. Even Kaelie had managed to get out of this place with her false smiles and giggles, but Clary refused to let some random stranger cover the memory of her mother, even if it meant escaping the orphanage._

_The mistress, now desperate to get rid of Clary, had set her up for a private meeting with a forty year old man looking for a girl to adopt._

_Clary waited for him silently in the mistress' office until he came in and shut the door behind him. The man looked over Clary silently for a moment, then smiled. Clary felt a shiver run down her spine from the nasty looks the man was giving her, and she tried to edge away from him as he came closer._

_He reached out with a finger and stroked Clary's cheek, his dark eyes locked on hers. His breath smelled of alcohol and smoke and his gaze held a fierce hunger._

"_Well aren't you a pretty one?" he sneered. The man leaned forward and sniffed Clary's neck._

_Having had enough of this, Clary reached back and slapped him hard across the cheek. He recoiled instantly, raising a palm to where she had slapped him. Clary stared at him, wide eyed, as anger took over his features._

"_You bitch!" he snarled. The man lunged for Clary and surrounded her in a death grip, one of his arms holding her against his chest by the throat._

_He snickered to see her trapped and licked her ear. "Aren't you a feisty one?" he murmured. Clary let out an involuntary whimper, and he only laughed and reached up to grab her chest._

_Clary kicked at him as hard as she could, stumbling back as he released his grip on her and running out of the room. The last sound she heard was him groaning in pain._

_The mistress was furious to hear of what she had done. The lady had thought that man was the last chance to get Clary out of her orphanage, and she took out her frustration on Clary. The years passed and she just got more and more violent towards Clary, tired of seeing her face still at the orphanage._

_The mistress had beaten her harder than ever that night._

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Clary was startled out of her thoughts at the knocking at her door. Luke's muffled voice came through from the other side.

"Clary! What would you like for breakfast?"

She took a deep breath, calming herself before she answered.

_It's_ _okay, _she thought, _I'm here with Luke now._

"Can you make chocolate chip pancakes?" she replied, splashing slightly in the bathwater. Good, her voice sounded normal.

"Sure! I love them too," Luke replied enthusiastically, unaware of her teary eyed state behind the door.

She listened as he went back downstairs before drowning in her thoughts again.

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**So there we go! Just a little insight into what Clary's life was at the orphanage. **

**The next chapter will be more Luke/ Clary and then the chapter after that is Clary's first day of school.**

**Leave a review, kiddies!**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Just a quick note: I have a beta! Please applaud TMI for her amazing work. The story will probably be ten times better with her input so I am forever grateful.**

**My little nit pick queen (:**

**Alright on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Clary's wet hair clung to her shoulders as she walked downstairs for breakfast. The air smelled deliciously of chocolate pancakes, but the memories that had been flooding through her head were still tangible, and the feeling of comfort that she had reveled in yesterday was gone.

Luke saw her come in and stood up from his place at the kitchen table, walking over to greet her with a smile on his face. As he stretched his arms out to encompass her in a hug, Clary couldn't help but flinch. Luke's smile slowly faded, and he studied Clary curiously as he set his arms back down.

"Is everything alright?" Luke asked, keeping his eyes on Clary. She nodded her once head and sat down at one end of the table.

Luke gave Clary one more wary look, yet nodded and handed Clary a plate stacked with chocolate pancakes. Clary dug in. Luke tried not to let the disappointment in the change of Clary's attitude show on his face, but Clary still saw it. She hadn't meant to hurt him- it was just difficult for her to act normally again after her past resurfaced. But she would try, at least for Luke.

The pancakes melted in Clary's mouth, instantly distracting her. It was nothing like she had ever eaten before, not even when her mom was still alive. "You're a great cook Luke," she said, honestly. The orphanage's food was edible, but most of the girls only ate it to keep their bellies relatively full, rather than for the taste. Thinking that she would get food like this every day from now on elated Clary.

Luke gave her a small smile. "Thanks. Living alone has taught me a few things," he replied, taking a bite of his own pancakes.

"You never got married?" Clary asked thoughtlessly, saying the first thing that came to her mind. Luke was good looking, even for an older guy. Clary wondered why he hadn't caught a woman's eye yet, or why any hadn't caught his.

The look on Luke's face hardened and he stared down at his plate. Clary's cheeks turned red, suddenly realizing that she may have asked a question that was too personal for Luke.

"I'm sorry Luke," Clary blurted out, trying to backpedal, "you don't have to answer that, I- "

"Its fine Clary," he assured her, the hardness in his face dissipating as he chuckled, "There was a girl in my life once. But it didn't end up working out."

"I'm sorry," Clary said again, not knowing how else to respond.

Luke just laughed again, and Clary fell silent as she ate the last bite of her pancakes. Luke finished soon after, and he led the way into the kitchen to put their empty plates in the sink.

"Why are you sorry?" Luke asked after another moment of silence. "Me not marrying was no fault of yours, Clary."

Clary shrugged and went over to the sink to help him wash the dishes. They worked together silently until another question bothered Clary.

"Luke?" she asked, pausing abruptly in her scrubbing of a pan.

Luke didn't look up from the mixing bowl he was soaping down. "Yes, Clary?" he prompted, waiting for her to speak again.

"What was my father really like?"

The empty space where her father should have been had never bothered Clary before now. Clary trusted her mom when she said it wouldn't be smart to talk about him, but things were different now. After having found out from Luke that he wasn't the best of men, Clary's curiosity was piqued.

Luke thought on this for a moment, and suddenly he dropped the mixing bowl in the sink and rushed from the room. Clary stared after him, hoping she hadn't somehow upset him by mentioning her father. "Luke?" she called.

"I'll be right back!" he yelled back, sounding like he had run upstairs. After a moment, Luke came back down with a box marked Idris, and put it down on the kitchen table.

"Idris High was where the three of us went to high school. I think I should have a picture of him here somewhere…" Luke rummaged through the box, dust flying up in swirls as he shifted through old photographs and yearbooks. It was clear that the contents of this box hadn't been disturbed in years.

"Aha!" Luke fished out a faded photograph, holding it up triumphantly for Clary to see. In the photograph was a boy, looking to be about seventeen. He had the palest of blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, and a small smile lingered on his lips. Tucked away under one of his arms was a smiling girl with flaming red hair: Clary's mother.

Clary studied the photograph carefully. Jocelyn Fray looked much happier here than Clary had ever seen her in her life. Clary knew her only as the strict but caring mother she had always been. In this photo, she looked like any love-crazed teenage girl; wild, happy and free.

The boy that was holding her looked vaguely bored and arrogant, and aside from the lazily slung arm over Jocelyn's shoulders, he didn't show much interest in the girl.

"That was your father," Luke explained, brushing a finger against the boy in the picture. "I took that picture for them after we graduated junior year of high school."

Clary felt no connection towards the man in the picture, even knowing that he was her father. "Why didn't you want my mom to date him?" she asked, studying the boy's blue eyes for any traces of warmth.

She found nothing.

Luke sighed. "Jocelyn only saw his face and his charms. She didn't realize that under all that, he was a terrible man. He had a circle of friends that he kept secret from her, and at night, they would wreak havoc on the neighborhood. They killed animals, leaving them dying on the streets and bullied other kids mercilessly. I tried to tell her all this but she refused to believe me. She couldn't imagine that her perfect boyfriend would ever be so cruel."

Clary nodded and handed the photograph back. She felt a surge of disappointment in knowing that the nasty man Luke described was her father, but tried to push the feeling away. She was just lucky that he had no part in her life.

"Well you're starting school tomorrow," Luke mentioned, placing the photo carefully back into the box. "Want to do something fun for today?"

"Sure" Clary was pretty sure she had no idea what the word fun meant anymore. One of the most important of the unspoken rules in the orphanage was that fun was generally not allowed.

Luke took her to the family room and sat down on the leather couch. "Pick any movie you'd like," he encouraged her, motioning for her to pick out a DVD out of the stack that was lined up on a shelf. Clary's excitement grew; only an hour of television had been allowed per weekend at the orphanage. Luckily for Clary, they still promoted creative pastimes, which meant that she was still allowed to paint.

Clary found a familiar title in the stack and handed it to Luke, who fed it into the DVD player. Together, they watched the movie, laughing at the appropriate parts. The weight of everything that she had missed out on in a father wasn't lost on Clary as she looked over to Luke with a new perspective. He was the closest thing to a father that she had ever had, and Clary had only known him for a few weeks.

The day passed quickly in front of the television. After they finished one movie, they just moved on to another one. When the sun began to set through the living room window Clary excused herself from Luke and went upstairs into her new art room. She stood in the middle of the room, taking a moment to simply look around at the supplies.

Clary found a box of paints first. She opened a tube and dabbed some onto her finger. She was instantly pleased; the quality of the paints Luke had given her was excellent. Clary propped a canvas on the easel facing the window, quickly prepared her materials, and began to swirl across the blank white expanse in golden hues. Looking at the gold in the dying colors of the sky, the first thought that came to her mind was of an angel.

Inspired, Clary meticulously began to sketch in the body of an angel, arms spread and wings extended. She worked until the scene outside melted into complete darkness, her brush strokes against the canvas slowing to a stop.

When Clary stepped back to appraise her work, she was pleased with what she saw. The painting was intensely detailed, the feathers of the wings and the muscles along the abdomen of the angel clearly visible. Yet, the painting was still faceless; Clary couldn't find the image that she wanted to paint. The face had to be worthy to grace the body of an angel.

With a sigh, she covered the canvas, and left the room. For the rest of the night, her thoughts remained lingering on the faceless angel.

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**The next chapter is school ;D Some interesting people will be introduced. I'm exciteddd.**

**Review review review!**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	5. Chapter 4

**First, thank you for all those reviews. They made me insanely happy :D**

**-love-**

**And once again thank you TMI for your extravagent work ;)**

**Shall we begin?**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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"Clary," Luke started, breaking the silence and looking over worriedly at his foster daughter, "You'll be fine. You look like a nervous wreck,"

Clary said nothing, her only reaction to clutch her notebook and sketchbook tighter to her chest and stare in front of her at the wide expanse of road. Luke sat quietly next to her, driving her to (as Clary viewed it) her imminent demise.

Alicante High had a total head count of five hundred students. The population of the school may not have been especially high, but Clary had never seen so many kids at once before. Her breathing grew rapid as the school came into view, and the welcoming feeling the building seemed to emanate did nothing to ease her nerves.

Clary tried to take a few deep breaths as Luke pulled up next to the front entrance. "Do you want me to come with you?" Luke asked her nervously. He looked at her as though she was a bomb about to explode- with good reason, too. Luke had never been in the situation of taking a child to school before, and frankly, he was just as bewildered as Clary.

Clary just shook her head, not trusting her voice.

"I gave them your records, so all you have to do is go inside and get your schedule, alright?" Luke reminded her gently. Clary nodded. Before she lost her nerve, she climbed out of the car and ran towards the double doors. Clary slipped inside, trying to ignore the overwhelming crowd of students as she shut the doors behind her. Her first mission was accomplished as she found the main office directly to her right.

"See Clary, this isn't so hard," she murmured to herself, attempting to act optimistic.

Clary slowly opened the door into the air-conditioned office, standing timidly in the doorway. There were many women bustling around inside, paying no attention to Clary. She felt invisible as she stood there helplessly, wondering exactly what it was she should be doing. It wasn't until the door squeaked as it shut behind her did one of them turn to face Clary.

The woman looked middle-aged, the purple glasses sliding down her nose matching her ruffled blouse. Her piercing gray eyes scrutinized Clary from head to toe, making Clary feel even smaller as she tried not to shrink away. "May I help you?" the lady asked.

Clary had to force the words out of her mouth in order to speak. "I'm a new student here," she managed to squeak out.

Immediately, the woman brightened up. "Oh! Well come along with me then," she replied kindly, ushering Clary to follow her into a backroom. Clary glanced around the office, then reluctantly followed her. Inside the room, the woman was already bent over an overflowing filing cabinet and extracting a portfolio.

"Clary Fray, am I right?" she asked. Clary nodded in confirmation, and the woman handed her the portfolio. Clary immediately opened it, finding various sheets of paper including her new schedule and a map of the school.

"Alrighty then, so there are two sheets of paper that your parent or guardian has to sign and return tomorrow, and your map has all the rooms on your schedule highlighted." The lady smiled warmly at Clary, her eyes twinkling behind the purple glasses. "I hope you enjoy it here,"

Clary gave her a small smile. "Thank you," she murmured quietly, walking out of the office. She stopped outside to locate the schedule in the portfolio, realizing that she had no idea where the heck she was going. At the top of the schedule she found her locker number, and wandered down the halls until she came to the right one.

Suddenly, a loud ringing noise sounded, startling Clary. Instantly, the halls were filled with a swirl of kids going to their lockers or talking with friends as they moved off towards their classes. Clary felt constricted as the bodies closed in around her, knocking her swiftly out of her comfort zone as she was pushed around by the current of students. She tried to ignore them and attempt to concentrate on opening the stubborn locker in front of her, but to no avail. It was impossible for her to gain her balance in this unfamiliar environment called a high school. Clary was overwhelmed.

Gently, two hands removed hers from the lock and took it in their own, lazily twirling the dial. Clary looked up and saw a tall girl with long, glossy black hair standing beside her. She grinned easily at Clary, to which Clary tentatively smiled back. "Need a hand short stuff?"

Clary nodded. "Thanks," she offered shyly. The taller girl waved off her thanks, tapping her fingers on the dial. "It's four, twenty eight, forty one," Clary whispered, rattling off the numbers as quickly as she could. Her savior expertly opened the lock within seconds and handed it back to Clary.

"You need to remember, it's clockwise for the first number, then counterclockwise for the second, then clockwise again for the third, okay?" the girl reminded her, watching as Clary pulled open her locker door.

Clary nodded again, shooting the girl a look of gratitude. She felt so estranged to this kind of life, especially after having difficulty with such a simple task as opening a lock.

"Hey, we're going to be locker buddies!" the girl gave a little cheer as she pointed to the locker right next to Clary's. "I'm Isabelle by the way," she introduced herself, holding out her hand in front of her for Clary to shake. Clary looked at it warily but slowly took it, managing a small smile.

"Clary," she replied.

Isabelle's eyes lit up at the sound of her name. "That's such a pretty name!" Isabelle exclaimed, pumping her hand up and down enthusiastically. Clary blushed and looked away. She looked inside her locker for a moment before shutting it, having nothing to put inside. Clary turned back to Isabelle and saw that she was waiting patiently for Clary to finish.

"Where's your first class?" Isabelle asked, as they began walking down the hall. Clary fished her schedule out of her folder and looked down it quickly.

"Math, room 105," she answered, wondering how she was supposed to get there on time.

"Hmm. Let me see your schedule?" Isabelle took the schedule from Clary and began looking down it. She scanned it quickly then gave it back with a happy expression on her face.

"We have gym and science together!" she exclaimed, bouncing up and down. "This will be fun! I don't have very many friends in that class."

Clary was thankful that she had someone she knew in some of her classes- she had been worried about being alone almost more than anything else. Clary scrutinized Isabelle, from her expensive looking boots to her carefully styled hair. She couldn't help but wonder why this girl was being so nice to Clary.

"You're taking some pretty advanced classes," Isabelle noted, "Where did you go to school before?"

Clary hesitated before responding. She wasn't sure how much of her past she wanted to divulge.

"I was home-schooled," she said quickly. Clary was worried that Isabelle would treat her differently, but Isabelle just smiled and continued walking with her.

"Everything must be new for you then, huh?"

Clary chuckled and nodded. It was like a whole different planet. But she found herself enjoying talking to a girl her age who didn't hate her. It was a nice change from the orphanage.

They stopped in front of the door marked 105.

"Well this is your class. See you at science!" And with that, Isabelle skipped away, leaving Clary to face her first class alone.

Clary steeled herself with a sigh, then opened the door and walked into the classroom, finding a seat in the far back. Students were still walking in, and the room was half empty. Thankfully, no one noticed Clary as she sat down in her seat.

Clary pulled out the sketchbook she had brought with her and began doodling. Another sound of the bell, and the teacher began talking.

"Clary Fray, would you come up here please?" the teacher asked suddenly, startling Clary out of her drawing-induced daze. Clary looked up from the sketchbook and saw the teacher motioning for her to come to the front. However much Clary wished she could sink into the floor, it wasn't going to happen. She got up slowly and went to stand next to the teacher.

"Class, this is Clary," the teacher said cheerfully. "She will be a new student here from now on, and I expect you to treat her well. Clary, is there anything you would like to say?"

Clary shook her head, and she felt her face turn red at the stares of her classmates, some looking bored while others studied her curiously. She walked back to her seat with her head down, and tried to ignore the feeling of being watched.

The class passed by in a blur, and soon the rest of the kids forgot about Clary. She relaxed into her seat as the teacher began putting up problems on the board. This was a pretty advanced class, and most of the kids looked older than Clary. They intimidated her, but she assumed she would get used to it. She would have to get used to it.

As the class ended, Clary gathered her things and got ready to go to English. It had always been her favorite subject and she was fairly excited for the class. As she was released into the sea of students again, futilely trying to battle the current of the hallway, she spotted Isabelle in the hallway, who smiled and waved at her.

"Hey Clary, how was it?" Isabelle shouted, walking in the opposite direction and trying to get her voice heard above the noise of the other kids.

"It was fine," Clary shouted back, trying to sound optimistic again. Isabelle gave her one last smile before turning back and dissolving into the crowd once more.

_This is going better than I imagined,_Clary thought. Her spirits had lifted since the morning and she walked into English with a smile.

Maybe this whole going to school thing would end up okay after all.

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**So I wonder what's going to happen next. Hmmmm. **

**Review my lovelies :D**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	6. Chapter 5

**The final part of Clary's first day! **

**I owe TMI so much. That girl is stunning and I suggest you all give your thanks to her! She's made this story so much better.**

**On with the chapter. I think you'll like ;)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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The English teacher was already in the room when Clary walked in, and she instantly spotted Clary, smiling brightly. She looked relatively young, her long brown hair streaked with blonde highlights and her blue dress both simple and fashionable at once. Clary immediately liked the woman- she seemed to emit a warm, friendly glow.

"Hello, you must be Clarissa," the teacher greeted her, standing up from her seat at her desk. "I'm Ms. Jacobs and I'll be your English teacher for the year." Ms. Jacobs picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to Clary. "This is the class curriculum for the rest of the year," she explained. Clary nodded, scanning the paper quickly. "And I'll show you to your seat now," Ms. Jacobs continued, walking purposefully down the rows of seats.

"Please call me Clary," Clary requested as she followed the teacher to her seat. Ms. Jacobs nodded and smiled at her again.

"Of course, dear," she replied. "Here's your seat. I hope you don't mind sitting in the back."

"Of course not," Clary assured her. "The back is fine." _The back. Perfect,_ Clary thought to herself, smiling. She quietly sat down, waiting a moment for Ms. Jacobs to go back to the front before bringing out her sketchbook again. Clary flipped it open to the last clean page and started sketching as she waited for the class to begin. Somewhere in the midst of her drawing, someone sat down in the seat next to her. Clary looked up, her pencil still sketching away, to see the person who had interrupted her concentration. The pencil stopped abruptly though, falling limp in her hand as Clary's breathing turned shallow.

The person who had sat down next to her was the most handsome guy she had ever seen. He was golden all over- his hair shone like gold in the light from the wide windows of the classroom, and his face and arms had a deeply tanned golden glow to them. To complete the boy's physical color theme, he had deep golden eyes, a shade both exotic and disconcerting at the same time. The tight, plain white shirt he wore left little to the imagination concerning his finely muscled chest, and Clary could see hints of dark swirling tattoos underneath the fabric as well.

This was the type of fantasy boy that Clary liked to draw. Never had she thought that an actual person could look this perfect.

_Holy_- Clary was so stunned, she couldn't even finish that simple thought. She had never been exposed to very many males in general for the past six years of her life, being kept in the all-girls orphanage, but she knew that normal people didn't usually look as godly as this guy did. And although Clary floundered helplessly for several moments, she still couldn't fathom how someone like him could exist. She couldn't help but stare at those beautiful golden eyes.

Unfortunately for Clary, though, those golden eyes were staring right back.

"I know I'm gorgeous, but please don't lower yourself to openly gawking," the boy told her condescendingly, his mouth twisting into a cocky smirk. A small chipped tooth was visible from the corner. "It's embarrassing- for you, at least."

Clary snapped instantly out of her daze. "As gorgeous as you might be, no one likes an arrogant jerk," she snarled back, giving him her best Look of Contempt (it always worked on nosy girls in the orphanage).

"Oh I would care to disagree," the boy replied lazily, looking amused at her vehemence. "Many people say my arrogance is a major turn on." He winked at her, and Clary had to forcibly stop herself from internally swooning. _This guy is a jerk, Clary! Pull yourself together! _"And besides, you just admitted I was gorgeous," he added slyly.

Clary grumbled under her breath at his logic. "I'd be lying if I said otherwise," she muttered, "and above all I'm not a liar."

The boy just laughed. He looked like he was about to say something in reply, but just as he opened his mouth Ms. Jacobs called out, "Attention, everyone! We're beginning now." He simply smirked at Clary again before turning to face the front of the room. Clary internally sighed in relief at not having those golden eyes trained on her. This boy was messing with her head.

Ms Jacobs' gaze landed on Clary, who sighed reluctantly. _Here come the introductions again, _she thought to herself, and waited for Ms. Jacobs to call her to the front.

"Hey guys," Ms. Jacobs started, smiling warmly at the class, "First off, I would like you to meet Clary. Clary, say hello!"

Clary sat up in her seat and gave a little wave instead, trying her best not to turn tomato red as some people waved back. She still wasn't used to strangers being so friendly and open, instead of the closed, distant attitudes of most of the orphans she had grown up with.

"Let's take roll then," Ms. Jacobs decided, picking up a red folder from her desk. "Jay?"

"Here," a boy called out from the first row.

"Sophie?"

"Here," a blonde girl in front of Clary replied, examining her nails.

"Linda?"

"Here."

"Clary, obviously you're here," Ms. Jacobs said aloud, laughing slightly. "Jace?"

Golden Boy shifted beside Clary, flashing a smile up at the teacher. "Here," he called up to her.

"How can he sound so hot with just one word?" someone whispered dreamily. Jace grinned, but Clary just rolled her eyes and ignored it. So this was where he got his arrogance from.

However arrogant Clary believed Jace to be, her thoughts kept turning to him as the class went on. She marveled at how odd this golden boy was. His looks definitely hadn't done much to change his conceited persona in Clary's eyes, but he showed definite signs of intelligence whenever Ms. Jacobs asked him to answer a question. And Clary assumed that Ms. Jacobs knew he would almost always be right considering how often she called on him.

As the class ended, Clary quickly got up without another glance at Jace, and began walking to the door. "You're much shorter than I thought you were," someone remarked behind her.

Clary huffed, turning around to face Jace. "Do you have a problem with that?" she demanded.

He laughed again, and Clary was momentarily dazed; he had a nice laugh. Clary shook it off as Jace replied, "It's just an interesting combo with your red curls. Makes you look 12, like Shirley Temple or something."

Clary's face burned in anger and embarrassment, and she turned sharply to make her escape. Her anger didn't fade as she heard Jace's bellowing laugh follow her out of the room. Clary stopped briefly outside to examine the school map, and eventually found her way to the gigantic cafeteria. By the time she had slipped in through the big double doors, her embarrassment had worn off and her complexion was a normal color once more. She went about in the lunch line, choosing something that seemed mostly edible and paying for it as quickly as she could. Clary picked up her tray, took a deep breath, and turned to scope out the hall for a place to sit.

Then she froze. Half of the school's population was eating lunch at once, and Clary could feel the claustrophobia taking over again.

Clary felt a pull on her arm, tugging her briefly out of her fear, and she turned to see Isabelle's beaming face gazing down at her.

"Hey there short stuff!" she greeted her happily. "So tell me, how was your day so far?" Isabelle looped her arm with Clary's and led her to a table.

"It was decent. Could have been better," Clary remarked, thinking back to Jace and the flustered feeling she had gotten around him. Clary couldn't imagine how she would survive the rest of the year next to that guy. He was insufferable and gorgeous at the same time: a dangerous combination.

Isabelle had a few friends with her already at the table, and she introduced them quickly. Clary sat down in the seat next to who Isabelle said was Maia, and started eating as Isabelle and the other girls began blabbering about something to do with fashion- Clary wasn't sure exactly what it was.

In the middle of lunch, Clary spotted a flash of dark hair in the crowd that seemed oddly familiar to her. She looked around curiously, but couldn't spot the girl she thought she had seen.

_Now you're just imagining things, _she scolded herself. _How would you recognize anybody here? None of them are from the orphanage._ Clary tried to shrug the familiar feeling off, but she couldn't hide the feeling of dread that was creeping over her. She couldn't remember where she recognized the girl from, but it brought back terrible feelings.

When they had finished eating and said good bye to Isabelle's friends, Isabelle and Clary left lunch to go to science, one of the two classes they shared. The teacher didn't have assigned desks, so the girls snagged seats next to each other and the class passed much more pleasantly than Clary's other classes had. The rest of the day was thankfully more like science than English, and Clary got through all of the new-girl stuff without too much trouble. She was internally very glad that she didn't have any more classes with Jace. After all, she could only take so much of his arrogance in one day.

Isabelle was waiting by Clary's locker at the end of the day, her stuff already packed into her purple backpack.

"Hey Clary, want to hang out tonight?" Isabelle offered cheerfully. Clary froze; she didn't know how to respond. She didn't want to hurt Isabelle's feelings, but she couldn't get that close to Isabelle. Not yet.

"Isabelle I…I can't," Clary stammered. "It's not you, I just…can't tonight." She fought the reaction to blush and cringe, embarrassed over her strange weakness, but Isabelle seemed to understand. She just nodded at Clary and gave her a sad smile.

"That's okay," Isabelle assured her. "Maybe another time?"

Clary felt a surge of affection for Isabelle right then; she didn't question when Clary acted weird and didn't treat her differently even when she did. It was new to Clary, seeing someone who actually cared like that. Luke and Isabelle made her thankful that she had gotten out of that orphanage. "Yeah, definitely," Clary replied, smiling gratefully at her new friend.

Before she could thank Isabelle for understanding, a mess of golden curls appeared behind Isabelle's shoulders. Clary groaned, her heartfelt emotions towards Isabelle shriveling up at the sight of the arrogant jerk from her English class.

"What are you doing here Jace?" Clary demanded, annoyed out of her shyness by his presence. Jace just flashed her another one of his chipped-tooth smirks and put an arm around Isabelle.

"I'm here to pick up my dear adopted sister of course," he replied, and pretended to give Isabelle a kiss on the cheek, which she swatted away.

"Wait, you two have met?" Isabelle asked incredulously, looking between Clary and Jace.

"Unfortunately," Clary grumbled, glaring at the boy in mention.

Jace's smirk grew at Clary's answer. "Clary here has been blessed to sit beside me in English class," he informed his sister. "I'm in the perfect location for her to stare at,"

Clary turned away before they could see the blush on her face. "Sorry Isabelle, I've got to go," she murmured quickly, and ran as fast as she could to the front doors.

"Jerk!" Clary heard Isabelle behind her, presumably scolding Jace. "You scared off my new friend!"

Clary smiled faintly at Isabelle's indignant attitude, but still pushed open the front doors and slipped out. Luckily, Luke's car pulled into the crowded driveway just as she was walking down the front steps, and Clary ran to climb hurriedly inside.

"How'd the first day go Clary?" Luke asked, appraising her pink cheeks out of the corner of his eye as he maneuvered out of the school property.

"Better than I expected," Clary muttered, and gave Luke a small smile to try and convince him.

He didn't look very convinced.

The car ride passed in silence after that, and once they reached the house, Clary rushed upstairs to her room. She only paused to throw her school things onto the bed before hurrying into her art room. Clary's first action was to gently uncover the painting of the angel she had started the night before. Thinking of Jace, Clary knew she had found the face that would complete the painting.

Even if he was arrogant ass.

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**And there you have it. Jace. -swoon-**

**I think Jace deserves some review right? **

**Review review ;)**

**~A.W.W**


	7. Chapter 6

**Hey guys :D**

**Sorry for the slight delay~ I'd say this chapter was worth the wait ;) **

**Don't hate me by the end of this pls.**

**Anyways! On with the story?**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

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Clary stood outside the door to her English class, one hand poised on the door knob. She couldn't get up the nerve to actually go inside though, and simply stared at the blue painted door in front of her face. Clary closed her eyes, taking deep, slow breaths.

_I can do this,_ she tried to convince herself. Mustering all her courage, Clary opened the door to step inside. She scanned the room, her gaze sliding over the faces of her classmates. Finally, she let out a sigh of relief; her dear blonde friend wasn't here yet, and Clary could snatch a few moments of peaceful drawing before he arrived. She wandered over to her seat in the back and sat down, not looking forward to the appearance of Jace. Clary quickly pulled out her sketchbook and a pencil and began her usual pre-class drawing.

Just as Clary was starting to sink into the quiet oblivion of drawing, a familiar voice spoke right next to her ear. "What are you drawing?"

Startled, Clary dropped her pencil, snapping her head up to meet Jace's amused golden eyes. She blushed, looking quickly back down at her sketchbook again. Clary realized with a flood of embarrassment that she had begun unconsciously drawing Jace again, and quickly flipped the page to a more harmless sketch of a fairy surrounded by oak trees. Jace definitely didn't need his ego inflated any more than it already was.

"Nothing of your interest," Clary snapped at him, carefully smoothing the pages of her sketchbook. Jace eyed her curiously before shrugging and sitting down in his seat. Clary gave him one more annoyed look, huffing and holding the sketchbook closer to her as she turned to face the front of the room.

"Clary, explain to me something?" Jace asked, his voice tinged with a note of skepticism. "Why do you automatically dislike me so much?"

Clary sighed, keeping her gaze towards the front of the room. "You're arrogant and insufferable. That's why," she informed him matter-of-factly.

Jace scoffed, and out of the corner of her eye Clary could see him turn to raise an eyebrow at her. "I'm sorry, but you're the first girl that's ever told me that," he replied condescendingly.

Clary let out a humorless laugh, still keeping her eyes towards the front. "I doubt I'll be the last Jace," she muttered back.

"Quiet down, class," Ms. Jacobs called out. The low buzz of conversation ceased, and Clary took this opportunity to ignore the strange, penetrating look she had glimpsed in Jace's eyes.

Throughout the rest of the class, Clary could feel Jace's gaze on her. It was making her feel vastly uncomfortable, but there wasn't much she could do to stop him. Whenever she turned to look at him, he quickly averted his gaze back towards the front, puzzling her even further. Clary couldn't understand what he was thinking. It was obvious to her that no girl had ever been unsusceptible to his charms before, but why did he care so much?

Clary's foot tapped anxiously as she waited for the class to end. Ms. Jacobs was an interesting teacher, but she could barely wait to get away from Jace and his strange stares. As the bell rang, signaling that the class was over, Clary sprang out of her chair and tried to escape. Unfortunately for her though, Jace caught her arm before she could hurry away.

"Clary…" Jace started, tightening his grip on her arm as she attempted to squirm away.

With much effort, Clary looked up into his face, calming her own into what she hoped was a neutral expression. Jace stared right back, and sighed once before continuing. "I don't know how I'll do it since you seem to hate me so much, but I'll win your approval," he promised, his voice oddly serious. Jace looked into her eyes with a strong, determined expression for a brief moment, before his usual smirk took over his face. "Jace Lightwood can charm any girl," he informed her cockily. Then he released her arm, winked once, and strode away.

Clary stood there, astonished into immobility for a second, before she could move her legs again. She didn't know what Jace meant by that, but she definitely wasn't sure if she would like it. Clary didn't like the way he made her feel. Jace's attitude made her want to throw her fist into a wall, yet at the same time she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering over to him whenever they could.

That boy would be the death of her.

After only one class, art was already Clary's favorite class of the day. She clutched her sketchbook tightly as she walked inside, brimming with excitement. Clary hadn't been able to take an actual art class in years. If she strained her memory, she could vaguely remembered taking some when she was 10, but this was still almost a completely new experience for Clary.

Clary set down her books on an empty desk and stepped into the supply closet. She stood there for a moment, searching for the paints, but was eventually able to locate the right box among the overflowing shelves of pastels, clays, colored papers, and more. Clary pulled out the box and rifled through it, searching for the colors she wanted. Finally, she squeezed a few different paints onto a pallet and turned to exit the closet. When she tried to take a step out though, someone else rushed in, colliding with both Clary and her pallet.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Clary apologized quickly, looking up at who it was that had crashed into her. Her gaze fell on a guy with mousy brown hair and glasses that were slightly askew on his nose. He tried to rub off the paint Clary had splattered on his black gamer shirt, smiling genially at Clary.

"It's fine," the boy assured her, "I didn't like this shirt much anyways."

Nonetheless, Clary ran over to the teacher to ask for some napkins for the boy, and hurried back to help him clean his shirt. Clary believed his name to be Simon, from what she remembered from yesterday's class at least.

"Here let me help you," Clary insisted, holding out the napkins, "Simon, right?"

Simon nodded and grinned as he let Clary gently wipe the excess paint off of his shirt. "It's really fine," he repeated. Clary nodded and walked back over to her seat. Simon came over to set up an easel next to her. He groaned as he plopped down in his seat.

"I greatly dislike painting," Simon sighed, poking moodily at his canvas with the tip of a paintbrush. "I can't paint to save my life."

Clary couldn't help but laugh, grinning at the boy next to her. "Why did you choose art then?" she asked curiously. "Art tends to have a bit of painting."

Simon sighed again, making a face at Clary. "My mom made me," he explained. "She said I should learn to do something creative aside from sitting in my room playing video games all day. If you ask me, saving the supernatural world from treacherous demons is quite a creative pastime."

"I can imagine," Clary answered solemnly, hiding another grin as she turned back to her painting.

The theme of today's class was to paint a portrait of someone related to the students. Clary had decided to paint the image of her mother, turned towards a window. The back of her head was turned towards the viewer, her long red hair covering almost all of her face. Only a portion of her cheek was visible. Halfway through the class, Clary paused mid-stroke to stare at the half finished face. She could feel a tell-tale prickle of tears in her eyes; Clary hadn't ever painted her mother before, even with the numerous photographs she was in possession of. But for whatever reason, today she felt the need to do so.

"Clary? Hellooo?" Simon waved his hand in front of her face- Clary snapped to attention, focusing back on him. The expression on Simon's face, combined with the awry state of his hair and glasses looked too comical for Clary to withhold a giggle. Before she could stop herself, though, an image of Jace popped into her head. Simon was so much different from Jace, from the way he talked to the way he looked. She felt much more comfortable around Simon, while Jace just succeeded in flustering her.

"_I don't know how I'll do it, but I'll win your approval." _Jace's words flashed through Clary's head, and shivers ran down her spine. She put a smile on her face to mask her thoughts, and answered Simon instead.

"I'm sorry. I do that sometimes," Clary apologized quietly. She did do that a lot -sometimes she found herself staring off into space, lost in her own thoughts. She figured it was an after effect of living in the orphanage so long. Most of the time there it was better not to remember where she was.

Simon shrugged it off and continued attempting to paint, chatting with Clary the entire time. Clary only had to insert a comment here and there to keep the conversation going, but she enjoyed listening to him. It was a nice change from solitude.

At the end of the day, Clary wasn't surprised to see Isabelle and Jace waiting by her locker. Isabelle was bouncing on her toes, while Jace just leaned against the lockers and watched Clary's approach out of those dark golden eyes.

"Well hello there Shorty," Isabelle greeted her, while Jace just smirked. Clary opened the locker with much more ease than yesterday and was pulling out her things when she heard a new voice sound behind her.

"Hey baby," a girl squealed. Her voice was high and nasally, and somehow, Clary felt a spark of recognition at the sound. She turned around, her hands poised sliding a book into her backpack, only to see that the newcomer was wrapped all over Jace, her lips firmly attached to his. Clary swallowed her disgust with some difficulty, zipping up her backpack and shutting her locker as she waited for the girl to face her.

When the girl was finally done with Jace and had removed her lips from his, she turned to appraise Clary. The girl's blue eyes flashed with sudden recognition and hatred as she met Clary's eyes, and Clary's mouth dropped open in shock.

Jace looked between the two of them, apparently slightly confused by the dumbfounded expression on Clary's face.

"Clary, this is my girlfriend Aline," Jace introduced, touching the girl's shoulder and gesturing to Clary. "Aline, this is Clary,"

_That's not Aline, _Clary thought, _That's Kaelie._

Clary almost unconsciously raised a hand to her shoulder, lightly fingering the scars at the top of her back. Kaelie's eyes sparkled as she saw this, and she smiled a predator's smile. It was obvious that Kaelie remembered just as well.

"Hello Clary," Kaelie simpered, her smile growing wickedly as Clary backed away slightly. "It's so nice to meet you!"

Clary didn't spare a glance towards Jace or even Isabelle as she turned and bolted. "Clary!" Isabelle called after her, her voice tinged with shock at Clary's strange behavior. "Clary, come back! Where are you going?"

Clary couldn't bear to reply, sprinting as fast as she could away from Kaelie –the girl who had scarred her so badly.

Clary's past had already caught up to her.

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**:o**

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**~A.W.W**


	8. Chapter 7

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Jace stared after Clary's retreating form, utterly confused by her reaction to meeting Aline.

_What the hell was that about?_ he thought, watching as Clary whirled out of the hall. The expression he had seen on her face had been one of fear, but Jace couldn't figure out what exactly could have induced this reaction from her. After all, it wasn't like Aline wasn't scary or anything.

Jace turned to look at his girlfriend, figuring that she might know why Clary had reacted so badly to her presence. He was shocked by what he saw though –Aline's face was twisted into a look of immense disgust, as if she had smelled something very bad. But then again, she always seemed to look like that to Jace. Why was he dating her again? He couldn't remember at the present.

"Do you two know each other?" Jace asked finally, breaking the tense silence that had formed after Clary ran off. It was blatantly obvious that the two girls had met before, but Aline just shook her head and stomped off towards the parking lot.

Jace watched as she stormed away, wondering idly what he had seen in her in the first place. Aline's foster parents had moved here awhile back, and like the vast majority of the girls he had ever met, she had begun hitting on Jace immediately. Jace and Aline had been dating for a few weeks now, and Jace tended to feel a slight annoyance whenever he was around her. But Jace had to admit that Aline was really hot, which just made everyone more jealous of him than they already were. Therefore, he ignored whatever irritation Aline caused him and simply went with the flow.

Jace turned to look at Isabelle, who wore the same confused expression that Jace could feel on his own face.

"Come on, Jace," Isabelle said suddenly, grabbing Jace's arm and pulling him forcefully down the hallway. "We need to go check if Clary's alright. Your idiot of a girlfriend obviously shook her up somehow." Isabelle dragged her brother into the parking lot and over to his car, pushing him into the driver's seat and practically leaping over the hood to the passenger side in her haste to check up on her friend.

"Wait, Izzy, where does she even live?" Jace asked, clipping in his seatbelt and fingering the steering wheel. He decided that he didn't mind figuring out what was going on between his girlfriend and Clary. Maybe it was just him, but something seemed very wrong.

"Luke, that bookstore guy adopted her," Isabelle explained. "I used to work for him with Alec when Mom made us get jobs for the summer." Isabelle made a face at the memory. "We made a lot of deliveries to his house though, so I know where he lives."

Clary was adopted? Jace hadn't known that. Aline had made it very clear that she was adopted and loved by foster parents, but Clary hadn't breathed a word about her background.

Isabelle quickly directed Jace on the fastest way to get to Luke's house, leaning forward in her seat the entire way. It was clear she was very eager to find out what was up with Clary.

When they arrived at the farm house, Isabelle threw open the door and jumped out. "Jace, stay in the car," she instructed him, a strict look in her eyes. "Clary won't want to talk to you right now."

"Whatever," Jace muttered in reply. Isabelle shut the door and ran towards the front door. Bored already, Jace rolled down the windows and looked up at the house. It was pretty big, and looked neat and clean from the outside. Suddenly, Jace caught a glimpse of a flash of red in one of the windows –it was Clary's head poking through it as she leaned over to see Isabelle at the door.

Jace smiled almost involuntarily at the sight of Clary. She was so strange to him; mainly because she didn't allow the way he looked to sweep her off her feet. He had to admire that, even though it infuriated him a little. Jace was too used to getting any girl he wanted with a smile. Clary was an enigma, and Jace couldn't seem to get enough of her.

Right when Luke had stopped the car, Clary had jumped out and flown into the house as quickly as she could. Clary sprinted up the stairs, skidded on the hallway rug, then threw open the door to her room and ran inside, slamming it loudly behind her. She could hear Luke's shouts of concern from downstairs, but all Clary could concentrate on was the fact that Kaelie had come back into her life.

_What was she doing here? _Clary's mind was swirling with questions, her palms sweating and her vision blurring with tears of frustration. As she paced her room, every memory of the orphanage came back to her in a cloud of unhappiness; it was as if she could feel that plastic knife cutting deep into the flesh of her back all over again.

"Clary, what happened?" a deep voice asked quietly from the hallway outside. Clary stopped her pacing, turning slowly in place to stare at the door. She hesitated for a moment, then walked to the door and pulled it open.

Luke stood there, brows furrowed in worry and his fists clenched at his sides. "Clary, what's going on?" he persisted. Luke's voice seemed calm, but Clary could sense a strange undertone to it that she didn't understand.

Looking up at Luke's face, Clary burst into tears that she didn't know that she had been holding back. Clary clasped her face in her hands, attempting to stop herself from showing such strong emotions, but she found that she couldn't contain the hot tears spilling down her face. In the midst of all of the sorrow and anxiety crashing down on her, she felt strong, warm arms surround her. After a moment Clary registered the sensation, and realized that Luke was hugging her. The comfort that he was offering soothed Clary, and soon her sobs had died down to distressed sniffles.

Luke stroked Clary's hair and tried to hush her as best as he could. Once she had calmed down a bit more, he asked her, "Will you tell me what happened now? I don't want you to cry like this, Clary."

Clary broke away from his hug to look up at Luke's warm, concerned face. With a sigh, she decided that it would only be fair, after all of his kindness to her, to tell him about what had happened to her so many years ago.

"Back at the orphanage, there was this one girl named Kaelie who didn't like me very much. She got angry at me once when I got a little bit more food than everyone else, and cornered me that night with a knife from the cafeteria. She sliced my back open to teach me a lesson." Clary reached up and pulled the back of her shirt away from her shoulders, showing Luke one of the marks that remained on her skin. Luke gave a small gasp at the sight, and reached out as if to touch the scar before quickly pulling back. "I saw her again today. Turns out she goes to my school now," Clary finished quietly. She kept her gaze fixed on her lap.

Luke stood silent for a second, his eyes switching between the exposed scars on Clary's shoulders and her face. "Do you want to leave the school?" he offered seriously.

Clary instantly shook her head; that would just make Kaelie the winner here. She definitely didn't want that. And then there was Isabelle to think about –she was Clary's first real friend in years. Clary didn't want to leave her behind. "It was just a shock to me," Clary explained quickly. "I haven't seen Kaelie in years, and suddenly –boom! She's right in front of me."

"Well, maybe she's changed her ways?" Luke suggested hopefully. Clary remembered the vicious look in Kaelie's eyes after she recognized Clary. No, she hadn't changed one bit.

"What do you want to do about it? I can always talk to the police if you want," Luke offered. "She can't just get away with hurting you like that. The orphanage is supposed to be a safe environment for children."

"I don't have any proof that she did it," Clary sighed. "She'd just deny it anyways."

Luke sighed, and giving his foster daughter one last reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry Clary. I won't let her hurt you," he informed her firmly.

Clary just nodded her head, trying to swallow her fear as she watched Luke leave her room.

Clary was just reaching for the tissue box when the doorbell rang. Clary flinched, her hand freezing with a Kleenex halfway to her face. She jumped off the bed and ran to the window, sticking her head outside to peer around to the porch. She half expected to see Kaelie standing there, another knife in hand, coming to finish what she had started. When she craned her neck, she could catch a glimpse of the front steps, and the girl standing there. Clary recognized Isabelle's long black hair immediately, and raced down the stairs, wondering how her friend had figured out where she lived.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think she wants to see anyone right now," Clary heard Luke say to Isabelle. Before Isabelle could reply, Clary scrambled down the last few steps to the front hallway.

"It's okay Luke," Clary interrupted, glancing between Isabelle and Luke. "She's my… friend." Clary stuttered over the word 'friend', and could feel her face growing warm. She looked up at Isabelle, only to find her friend scrutinizing Clary's tearstained face.

Luke looked between the two girls and nodded, reluctantly backing away from the door. "I'll leave you girls alone to talk then," Luke decided, moving towards the kitchen. Clary gave him a small smile of reassurance before turning back to Isabelle.

The energetic, happy expression had left Isabelle's face, replaced with a determined look. "Clary, I want you to tell me what's going on," Isabelle burst out immediately, like a dam exploding with withheld water. "I've been noticing that you're hiding things ever since you came here, but now I'm just worried. Why did you react to Jace's girlfriend that way? I mean, I know she sucks and everything, but that doesn't explain you freaking out like that! Will you please tell me?" Isabelle's voice was pleading –she truly wanted to know what was wrong with Clary.

Clary thought for a second, gazing up into her friend's earnest face. She could trust Isabelle, which was for certain. Isabelle had managed to prove herself a true friend in the mere two days they had spent together. That was an amazing achievement in Clary's eyes, and deserved some recognition.

"I'll tell you," Clary announced quietly. Isabelle nodded, smiling gratefully at Clary. "Come in," Clary added, waving her into the house. Isabelle stepped inside and shut the door behind her. Her heels clacked on the wooden floors as she made her way to where Luke was in the other room. Clary followed quickly, wondering where Isabelle was going. She had assumed that Isabelle would come into her room to hear Clary's tale.

"Can Clary stay over at my house tonight?" Isabelle asked Luke, not noticing Clary's baffled expression at the sudden idea.

Luke saw Clary's face and raised an eyebrow at Isabelle. "Is that what you want to do, Clary?" he asked skeptically. Isabelle turned to Clary, her eyes huge and pleading.

"I guess so," Clary murmured, realizing that she really had no other choice with Isabelle.

Isabelle cheered up immediately. "Great! Now let's get you packed so you can come over right away," she decided.

With that, she dragged Clary up the stairs, not bothering to ask her where her room was. In place of this simple courtesy, Isabelle just threw open doors as she came upon them. After a moment of watching this, Clary pointed wordlessly to the door and watched as Isabelle's eyes widened at the bright splash of color her room created amid the calm earthy tones of the rest of Luke's house.

"This is cute," Isabelle commented approvingly, her eyes taking in the rest of Clary's room. She wandered around the bedroom before poking into Clary's art room, where she began prodding around the various equipment. Isabelle came to an abrupt stop in front of the covered easel by the window, curiosity plain on her face. Before Clary could stop her, she pulled the cover off, and let out a gasp at what she saw.

It was the painting of the angel; the one Clary had finished off with Jace's face. Isabelle recognized the likeness of her foster brother immediately, and turned to Clary with a puzzled expression.

"Is that-?" Isabelle started, her eyes wide with wonder.

Clary nodded her head softly, before whispering, "His face seemed to fit. I don't know why. Any other one just wouldn't have been right."

Isabelle studied Clary's face for a moment longer before turning back to the painting. Covering the canvas again, she stepped out of the art room and said no more on the subject.

After a brief moment of awkward silence, Isabelle cleared her throat and began talking again. "Well pack quickly," Isabelle advised her. "Jace is waiting outside with the car." She smirked suggestively at Clary at the mention of Jace's name.

_Oh, God no, _Clary thought desperately. She had completely forgotten that the asshat lived with Isabelle. Now she would have to spend the entire night in the same house as him. Isabelle saw her distress and let out a bellowing laugh.

"Oh come on, he's not that bad," Isabelle cajoled teasingly. "You must admit he's attractive." With a wink, she gestured to the art room. Clary blushed furiously, and turned to stuff some clothes and her toothbrush and brush into a backpack in an attempt to hide it.

"Let's go," Clary muttered. She took a deep breath before heading towards the stairs and exiting out the front door. "Bye Luke!" she yelled.

"Have fun!" he called back. Clary smiled slightly, then followed Isabelle out of the house and shut the door softly behind her.

She saw the car parked in the driveway of the house and froze involuntarily at the sight of Jace in the driver's seat. Isabelle came up behind her and shoved her lightly forward, urging her to get into the car. "Let's go, Clary," she murmured teasingly.

Clary refused to meet Jace's eyes in the mirror and tried her best to seem nonchalant. She could feel that golden gaze even through the rearview mirror though, and her skin prickled strangely at the sensation of being watched by Jace.

_What the hell are you thinking Clary, _she scolded herself, _He's_ _an asshole. He's dating Kaelie for Pete's sake!_

"Clary's staying with us tonight!" Isabelle announced cheerfully, climbing into the seat next to Jace's.

"Is she now?" came his reply, an amused tone tinting his voice. Clary ignored the shivers that his voice sent down her spine, and concentrated on looking out of her window as Jace started the car.

The car ride took a little over fifteen minutes, due to Luke's house being so far away from the main neighborhood. Clary didn't mind –as long as they were in the car she had an excuse not to look at Jace or Isabelle and simply gaze out the window at passing cars. Finally though, they stopped in front of an enormous house, Jace killing the engine and turning around in his seat to check Clary's reaction. From what he knew of Clary, he was anticipating an amusing expression from the sight of their house.

He wasn't disappointed. Clary gaped at the grandeur of the place, wondering dazedly how it could possibly be that Isabelle wasn't a snob if she lived _here_. Isabelle saw Clary staring and laughed. "My parents are very successful lawyers," she explained, her eyes twinkling. "You could say they're a big deal."

Together, they got out of the car and walked to the front double doors, Clary keeping as far away from Jace as possible. Between his relationship with Kaelie and Isabelle finding her angel painting, she was not coveting his company at the moment.

Once they were inside, Clary barely had any time to take in the house. Isabelle was forcibly dragging her up the stairs to a room painted black. The furniture was a bright white, and on the walls were golden swirls. Clothes were strewn across the floor like a second carpet, and every inch of the vanity in the corner was covered with makeup.

Clary sat down nervously on the bed and set her bag on the floor beside it. Isabelle plopped down stomach first onto the bed next to her, crossing her legs and putting her chin in her hands. She looked up at Clary expectantly, and Clary took a deep breath, fixing her eyes on one of the gold whorls on the wall before letting go and telling Isabelle everything about the orphanage.

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**Next chapter is going to be funnnnn. I promise you that ;)**

**Review my little darlings, for a smexy Jace, and to condemn the b*tch Kaelie!**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	9. Chapter 8

**I'm spoiling you guys silly. Don't get used to such quick updates ;P**

**But ohhhhh you guys will like this chapter. It's really long too, double present!**

**Dare I say more? ;)**

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"You know Jace's girlfriend, Aline?" Clary started, glancing quickly back at Isabelle. Isabelle nodded in reply, but stayed silent, gently urging Clary to continue.

"I knew her from the orphanage I used to live at," Clary explained, looking back up at the golden swirls on the walls. She sucked in a deep breath. "Except her name wasn't Aline –it was Kaelie."

Clary took another deep breath and started to go into the more sensitive areas of the story.

"When we were younger, she stole a plastic knife from the cafeteria and cut me with it because I got more food than her at lunch one day. I hadn't seen her since she got adopted though, which was years ago, and that's why I reacted so badly to seeing her today." Clary skimmed around the details of the incident, refusing to get caught up in the memories of that night again. It was too painful of a memory for her to bring up too clearly in her mind.

Isabelle gaped at Clary, her eyes wide and astonished at this new information. She quietly asked, "Where did she cut you?"

Clary hesitated slightly, then turned her back to Isabelle. "I'm wearing a cami, don't worry," Clary assured her, pulling her shirt up around her neck so Isabelle could see the scars around the thin straps of her camisole. She heard Isabelle shift on the bed to get a closer look at them, and let out a quiet gasp.

"I always knew she was a bitch," Isabelle muttered. Her fingers gently touched Clary's back, ghosting over the scars that covered her skin. "Here, just take off the over shirt. I don't care," Isabelle told her, helping Clary pull the green shirt she had been wearing over her head.

Clary felt a little exposed sitting in her flimsy black camisole. "Are you really okay with that?" Clary asked hesitantly, gesturing to her camisole. "I mean… I don't usually wear just these unless I'm sleeping."

"Don't worry, me and my friends wear just these all the time. It's fine if you're just girls hanging out together," Isabelle explained gently. Clary felt a sudden burst of embarrassment at this display of her lack of social knowledge.

"Oh, okay," Clary murmured, folding her shirt and laying it on the bed next to her. "Well, anyway, about Kaelie… she hides her real personality pretty well. All those years at the orphanage, she was always the favorite of the mistress that took care of us. She even got adopted quicker than most girls, when there were some who were a lot nicer and gentler than her." Clary thought back to Kaelie's young face, deceptively sweet and pretty but still with an undercurrent of ruthlessness. She could never comprehend how anyone had been fooled by her act when she could be so horrible to the other girls.

"How old were you when it happened?" Isabelle asked softly. Her fingers had fallen from her back, but Clary still didn't turn around.

"I was twelve." Clary's voice was so quiet that she could barely hear it herself. A moment of silence followed, and Clary tried to compose herself from the sharp sting of the memories.

"Don't worry about Kaelie, alright?" Isabelle said abruptly. She laid a comforting hand on Clary's shoulder and turned her around to face her. "I won't let that asshole of a Barbie girl hurt you." Clary smiled weakly –Isabelle had her arms crossed over her chest, and looked ready and capable of kicking Kaelie's butt. "And besides, we'll tell Jace about it, okay?" Isabelle added. "I'm sure he'll do something."

Clary scoffed at the idea. "Jace? Why would he care?" she asked plainly, rolling her eyes in disbelief. "He's _dating_ Kaelie. I'm sure he would defend her over me any day."

Isabelle studied Clary's face for a moment, a knowing look in her eyes. "You sure got his face down, Clary, but you don't know what he's like," she remarked after a moment. "I've lived with him for seven years now, and though he doesn't show it very often, he's one of the nicest guys I know." Isabelle paused for a moment at the skeptical look on Clary's face. "Under all of that douche-baggery, of course," she amended. "And besides, he doesn't like Ali- Kaelie I mean, anyway."

Clary chuckled at Isabelle's choice of words, and Isabelle cracked a grin. Suddenly though, smile faded, and she leaned in closer to Clary. "Tell me though, do you like him?" she whispered seriously. "He's got a lot of fan girls, but I haven't seen anyone draw his face as onto an angel yet," Isabelle added mischievously, her eyes taking on a devious look.

Clary blushed. Did she like Jace? Clary didn't think so. Thinking back to the times she had talked to him, all she could see was an overwhelming ego full to the brim with sarcasm and arrogance. Sure, he had a nice face, but she had yet to notice another attractive side to him.

"No, I don't think I do," Clary muttered. And she believed her words; as flustered as she got around Jace, she couldn't see him as anything more than a subject to paint. Yet, deep down, Clary knew that there _was_ a pull to him that even she couldn't deny. Clary was afraid of what that pull could possibly be.

"Oh come on," Isabelle wheedled. "You have to admit that he's kinda hot. I'm his sister, and even I see that."

Clary blushed even harder, this time because she knew she couldn't refute it. "That doesn't give him the right to be an ass though," she argued, carefully avoiding agreeing with Isabelle.

"If you say so Clary," Isabelle sang, "But you're the only girl that has given him the cold shoulder, and I must say I'm impressed." She gave Clary an appraising look.

Clary shrugged off the comment. "He's infuriating in every way imaginable," she replied calmly.

"To that, I must agree. So what do you want to do?" Isabelle sprang up from the bed and crossed the room, pulling open a dresser drawer rummaging around inside.

"Anything you want I guess. I don't really know what we're supposed to be doing," Clary admitted. A spark of excitement flared inside her as she realized she was having a real sleepover with a girl her age for the first time ever. She got up off the bed and stood next to Isabelle, standing on her toes to look into the drawer Isabelle was rifling through.

Inside were various cosmetic items; nail polish, emery boards, makeup and others of the sort. Clary grew apprehensive at the sight; she had never been able to use stuff like this before, but hadn't ever had much of a desire to anyway.

"Pick a color Clary. I'll paint your nails for you!" Isabelle urged her. She fished out some fine brushes, the kind that Clary imagined she would use to draw designs on her nails. Looking back down into the drawer, she picked out a bright green color that had a slight shimmer to it, and held it up for Isabelle's inspection.

"Perfect," she decided approvingly. "It matches your eyes."

Isabelle plopped down on the floor, and took one of Clary's hands in her own. She unscrewed the bottle of green nail polish, stroking the first coat carefully onto all of Clary's fingers, and then a second coat. Once she was done with the background coat, Isabelle picked up the thin brush she had gotten and began to decorate Clary's tiny fingernails with an intricate tree design in gold paint.

When Isabelle was done, she let go of Clary's hand. "Ta da!" Isabelle cheered. "Do you like them?"

Clary spread out her nails, admiring the finished product. "I love them," she declared. Isabelle's smile widened, and Clary had sudden inspiration. "Isabelle, will you let me do your nails?"

"Sure, just don't mess them up," Isabelle agreed teasingly. "We have to go to school tomorrow." Isabelle stood up and walked over to the drawer, pulling out a bright sky blue bottle of nail polish and handing it to Clary.

Seeing as Clary had never painted her nails at the orphanage, she had to rely on her experience as a painter to neatly coat Isabelle's nails with the blue polish. When she had finished with the bottom coats, Clary thought for a moment. "Can I have white paint for the details?" she requested.

"Sure. Check in the drawer," Isabelle instructed. Clary got up and pawed through the drawer for a moment before producing a bottle of opaque white paint and the thinnest paint brush she could find. She dipped the brush into the bottle and carefully painted delicate clouds onto all of Isabelle's nails except for the ring finger. When she was finished with all of the clouds, Clary drew in the figure of a dove, wings outspread, on the ring finger. Clary smiled as she examined her handiwork, then let Isabelle inspect her nails.

"You're a natural at this," Isabelle complimented. She gave Clary a big smile, which Clary shyly returned.

"Thanks," Clary murmured, busying herself with capping the nail polish bottles.

The two spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening just talking together. Occasionally, Isabelle would slyly bring up Jace in the conversation and watch Clary expectantly, waiting for Clary to falter. Clary ignored these blatant attempts at trying to get Clary to confess her feelings, and continued on as though the subject of Jace did not affect her.

However much Clary tried not to believe it though, the subject of Jace did affect her. It bothered her. She didn't like Jace… right?

Around nine, the girls were interrupted mid-sentence by Jace calling them from downstairs. "Isabelle! Clary! it's time for dinner!" he yelled up.

"We're coming!" Isabelle called back down. Clary hastily pulled on the shirt she had been wearing before and followed Isabelle downstairs.

"Why are we eating so late?" Clary murmured to Isabelle.

Isabelle shrugged. "We're not on a very tight schedule right now," she explained. "Tonight was Jace's turn to make dinner, and he usually procrastinates as much as possible."

"Will his food poison us?" Clary asked sarcastically.

Isabelle grinned. "Nah, Jaceykins is actually a decent cook," she assured her. "We'll survive off his grub."

As the two descended back downstairs, Clary looked around at the house for the first time. She was awed by what she saw. The inside of Isabelle's house was huge, and very thoroughly decorated. The ceilings were high and airy, and every room was permeated through with an aura of some grand regality.

Isabelle skipped over, tugging Clary towards what she assumed was the dining room, sitting down in one of the empty chairs around the big oak table. Clary took a seat between Isabelle and a little boy, as far away from Jace as she could.

The boy looked at Clary curiously for a moment. "Hi! I'm Max," he piped up, smiling brightly at Clary. "Are you Isabelle's friend?"

Clary smiled at him and held her hand out for Max to shake. "Yeah, I'm Isabelle's friend," she agreed. "My name is Clary. It's nice to meet you Max."

Max smiled at her and shook her hand enthusiastically. "My parents aren't here right now," he informed her. "They're at a business trip, so it's just you, me, Isabelle and Jace."

Clary nodded at him, and was about to reply when she felt Jace's gaze suddenly pierce through her. She snapped her head up to glare at him, mentally shouting at herself not to let him affect her. Jace just gave her one of his chipped tooth smirks and looked back down at his plate. Clary smiled down at her own, feeling triumphant.

Isabelle maintained a steady flow of conversation throughout the dinner, and Clary found that Jace toned down his douchey attitude when Max was around. She thought to herself that Jace was almost bearable when he acted like this.

When they were finished eating, Clary excused herself to go wash her hands in the bathroom. Just as she was walking out, Jace came barreling down the hallway and slammed into her, knocking her back against the door. "Hey, watch where you're going there Shorty," Jace chided mockingly, laughing at Clary's furious expression.

"You should be the one checking for people before deciding to sprint down a hallway," she snapped, wishing dearly she could come up with a better retort. Clary stormed away from Jace and hurried towards Isabelle's room, his chuckles enraging her further.

Isabelle was sitting in front of her vanity braiding her hair when Clary walked in. "You look ticked off," Isabelle observed, her eyes twinkling. "What ruffled your feathers so much?"

Clary made a face at her. "One word. Jace," she spat.

"What did he do?" Isabelle asked sympathetically. She hid a smile behind her hand, but Clary didn't notice.

"He came flying down the hallway when I was going out of the bathroom, and slammed straight into me," Clary explained. Isabelle nodded sagely, shaking her head mischievously when Clary wasn't watching. Clary changed quickly into her pajamas, plopping down on one side of Isabelle's massive bed and waiting for Isabelle to finish getting ready. Once Isabelle was done, she shut off the lights and crawled into the bed beside Clary.

"Goodnight, Clary," Isabelle whispered.

"Goodnight Isabelle," Clary murmured back.

Isabelle was silent for a moment. "Don't worry about Kaelie," she said abruptly. "Really, don't. I'm here for you if you ever need me, all right?"

Clary nodded, giving Isabelle a smile of appreciation. "Thanks," she whispered. Soon, Isabelle's snores filled the room and Clary herself drifted in and out of sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Clary awoke startled. She sat up in the bed and looked around at the unfamiliar room. It was only when she spotted the top of Isabelle's head poking out from the blanket next to her that she remembered where she was. Clary swallowed dryly, and slipped out of bed to get a drink of water from the kitchen.

Tip-toeing down the stairs, Clary walked soundlessly over to where she had discovered the kitchen was. She was about to enter when she realized that the light was on, and froze instead. She peered inside, only to find a certain someone with curly blonde hair working at the counter with his back turned to her. He was only clad in a pair of gray plaid pajama pants, and Clary's eyes were drawn involuntarily to the tanned skin of Jace's muscled back.

She gulped, realizing that she was alone with Jace in the middle of the night. Clary was about to turn around and tiptoe out when Jace whirled around as if he had sensed her presence. His face was confused at first, but it sidled into a smirk when he saw Clary standing there.

"Well, look who we have here," Jace drawled. "The one and only Clary Fray." He looked her over in her black camisole and purple pajama pants, bracing his hands against the counter behind him. As cliché as it was, Clary had to force herself not to stare at his muscles.

_You are utterly pathetic,_ she scolded herself. _This is Jace the asshole, remember? Yeah, that's right Clary. No drooling allowed._

"I was looking for water," Clary muttered, moving across the kitchen to the cabinet where Isabelle had showed her the glasses. She carried it to the sink and filled it quickly, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a sip. Jace shrugged at her silently and turned back to the counter, picking up the plate he had been using before and bringing it over to where Clary stood. To Clary's dismay, her stomach growled at the sight of the cheese sandwich and the apples that Jace had sliced up.

Jace chuckled and slid the plate over to her. "I'll make some more for myself," he said, smirking at her before pulling out the ingredients for his midnight snack again.

Clary gave Jace an apprehensive look, but nonetheless took the food and began eating slowly, surprised at his sudden kindness. She picked up the plate and brought it over to the island in the middle of the kitchen, sitting down at one of the stools and staring at Jace's back as he worked. Once he had finished making another plate of food, he brought his new plate over to the island, and Clary quickly averted her eyes. Jace pulled out the stool next to her and sat down, silently eating his own food.

Suddenly, Jace swiveled his stool to face Clary and leaned forward. "Why did you run from Aline today?" he asked, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity she just couldn't look away from. With a Herculean effort, Clary focused back down to her plate and swallowed the bite of food that was in her mouth.

Clary thought back to what Isabelle had said about Jace, and wondered if she should tell him. If anything, it would at least save him from Kaelie's deceptions. Not even Jace deserved to have to deal with her trickery. Clary could take that burden away- if he believed her, that was.

Instead of saying anything though, Clary just shifted so her back was towards Jace. He gasped at the sight of her scars, exposed among the open back of her camisole, and reached out to touch them, just like Isabelle had. But unlike earlier with Isabelle, Clary felt a tingle as his fingers traced gently over the scars.

Clary shivered, quickly turning to face him again. She was amazed by what she saw in his eyes. They held a look of deep pain, as if he had been the one scarred, and not Clary. Clary fought the urge to reach out and cradle his face in her hands, to try to soothe the strained expression that he held.

_Asshole, _she tried to remind herself.

"Who did that to you?" Jace asked quietly, interrupting her feeble thoughts as he stared deeper into Clary's eyes.

Clary took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment to collect herself before opening them to meet Jace's golden ones once more. "Aline," she breathed. Jace's previously sad expression turned to one of shock.

"Aline?" he asked incredulously. "Why would she…"

Clary sighed, retelling the story for the third time in the last two days. "I used to know her as Kaelie, and she did this to me at the orphanage we used to live at. She got angry because I got more food than her one time."

Jace was silent for a moment. Before Clary could register what he was doing, he grasped one of her hands in his own, his eyes serious as they gazed into hers.

"I'm sorry," Jace sighed, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly along the back of Clary's hand. "I know how you feel though. I used to have an abusive father when I was a kid." He looked down at her hand in his and continued, "But don't worry about Aline. I'll take care of her tomorrow." Jace looked back up at Clary, his eyes determined and fierce. Clary nodded weakly at his statement, and his expression softened. Jace gently let go of her hand, and it slid limply back into her lap.

While he had let go of her hand, his eyes still held hers for the longest time. Clary's breath hitched as he leaned forward, his warm breath ghosting her face. One of his hands reached up to cup her cheek, and before Clary's mind could catch up with events, Jace's lips had softly touched against hers. All she could do was fall forward into his embrace, her hands spread flat against his bare chest. They stayed in that position for several seconds, neither moving, just pressed gently together.

Then, Clary's mind kicked back into action, and she snapped out of her daze. She was kissing Jace- Jace of all people- in the middle of the night, while he was practically half naked and she only wearing pajamas. What was wrong with her? Clary jumped back from Jace as if he had burned her, springing from the stool and running to the doorway. There she paused for a moment, turning back to look at Jace.

He sat there with a stricken expression on his face, his hand still raised from where it had held Clary's cheek. Clary froze, completely confused at what she was feeling and what she should be doing. Before she could think this through more clearly, before Jace could say a word, she shot him a quick look of apology and ran full tilt back up the stairs and into Isabelle's room. Clary climbed into the other side of the bed, where Isabelle was still snoring gently, and raised a quivering hand to her lips. She didn't know exactly why she had decided to run, but she couldn't focus on anything but the foreign shock of pleasure she felt as she remembered Jace's breath lingering against her lips.

Jace watched as Clary ran away from him, his thoughts a complete disarray of emotions. He didn't know why he had kissed her; it had just felt like the right thing to do. Seeing the pain in those beautiful green eyes, but realizing that they were still so strong despite her past- it had been too much for him. The spark of anger he could evoke from her whenever Clary was near him just endeared her further in Jace's mind. Personally, Jace thought that it made her look like an angry kitten –cute and adorable, but not frightening in the least.

It had stung to see Clary jump away like he was poisonous, but Jace was also sure that he had seen a glint of something else in her eyes; something that made him think that she had liked that kiss just as much as he had. Whatever her reaction had been on the outside, Jace had seen that glint, and it had succeeded in sparking a flare of hope in him.

Jace didn't know what was going on with him, but he did realize that he was falling for this tiny, redheaded girl.

And falling for a girl was something that Jace Lightwood never did.

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	10. Chapter 9

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If it were up to Jace without any other people watching and consequently judging his actions, he would have gotten Aline back much worse than what he was itching to do. To them, Aline was a harmless girl, pretty and popular. It would end up pretty badly for Jace if he went up and socked her in the face at school. So instead, he decided to bring her down mentally, exploiting the weakness he knew all to well she had.

Power. If there was one thing Aline loved in this world, it was being able to show off Jace and drinking in the jealousy everyone else radiated, to feel like she was above people in the food chain of highschool. Jace could and would take that power away from her.

Jace smirked over his plan as he got out of his car and headed up towards the school. It was perfect –he could get this over and done with within minutes, and be free of Aline while simultaneously avenging Clary. He meandered through the crowds of kids coming in until he saw Aline standing with her usual group of friends, their high-pitched laughter ringing around the parking lot.

_She'll get what she deserves,_Jace thought as he walked over to Aline,_for doing what she did to Clary._

An arrogant smile grew on Aline's face as she spotted Jace approaching. Jace knew that she was constantly bragging to her friends about how lucky she was to have Jace, and jumped at any chance to voice the fact again.

She better have enjoyed it while it lasted, because everything between them was about to change.

As soon as he was within range, Aline stretched out an arm to wrap around Jace's waist,. Jace quickly sidestepped her, still smirking casually. Aline looked shocked at the snub, shooting Jace a furious glare at demeaning her in front of her friends. "What are you doing Jace?" she hissed at him, turning her head so only Jace could hear.

Jace simply smirked again at her obvious discomfort. "I'm here to break up with you," he informed her cheerfully. "I've realized that you're just a cold heartless bitch and rotten to the core."

Aline gaped at Jace, partly because of his casual tone and partly because she was shocked that he had actually seen through her perfect exterior. "You know you don't mean that, sweetie-" she tried to soothe, looking up at him with a practiced look of concern on her face.

Jace scoffed, dropping his blasé attitude. "Of course I mean it," he assured her. "You've done some bad things, haven't you Aline? I think the world deserved to know what kind of a cruel slut you are."

Jace's voice had grown louder as he progressed in his speech, and the kids around them stopped their conversations to draw closer and watch the drama unfold. Aline's books clattered out of her arms and hit the pavement as she gazed around at the growing crowd around her. Some people were snickering while others pointed and laughed at Aline. Jace was her only link to the popular squad –just because Aline was pretty didn't mean people liked her all that much. She knew this, and had clung to him as tightly as she could. Yet, now he was suddenly done with her. What did he know?

"Jace, what are you-," Aline blubbered at Jace, her eyes watering at the sight of the jeering crowd.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about Aline." Jace drew closer for a moment, bending his head slightly to whisper in Aline's ear. "Or should I say, Kaelie?" he growled. Aline paled, biting her lip in fear. She blanched at the thought ofJace knowing her real name, and was about to say something but Jace was already drawing back to glare down at her once more. "Now I suggest you get on with your sad life, but without me this time. We are over."

Aline shot Jace one final, teary-eyed glare before pushing her way out of the crowd and running towards the school building. People snickered and yelled as she pushed by, signaling the end of Aline's reign as Queen Bee. Jace smiled, slipping over to talk with a friend before classes started.

_And that is what happens with you mess with Clary Fray._

Clary nearly skipped English that day. She was that overwhelmed with the fear of having to sit next to Jace after last night's events.

_You aren't a baby Clary,_ she tried feebly to convince herself, _You can handle just seeing him. __Plus, you're screwed if you ditch class and Luke hears. He's already worried about the high school environment. No need to give him any more to fret about._

It was only after several minutes of mental pep talks that Clary scraped up the courage to enter the classroom. Ms. Jacobs smiled warmly at her as she walked in, but Clary could only nod in response, clenching her hands with nerves as she went to her seat at the back of the room. As she sat down, she automatically pulled out her sketchbook and a pencil, but for once in her life, the blank page stumped Clary. She could only stare at the paper and swirl her pencil uselessly over it, wondering what on earth she could possibly draw at a time like this. Finally, Clary gave up, and stowed her pencil away again. She couldn't focus on art when Jace was going to be sitting next to her for an entire class period within moments.

The first couple minutes of waiting for Jace to arrive were tense, and Clary could feel her palms sweating profusely. She slid down in her seat with her forehead resting on the desk's surface and her sketchbook in her lap, so she could easily hide her face if the need arose. What could she possibly say to him after last night?

Then came the words she had been dreading. "Hello, Jace," Ms. Jacobs said, her voice carrying down the rows of seats.

"Hi Ms. J," came the smooth reply.

Clary tensed at the sound of his voice, but studiously kept her eyes on her sketchbook as he sat down next to her. Jace was silent, and Clary didn't look up until she heard Ms. Jacobs start talking. Slowly, she lifted her head from the desk, but surprisingly didn't feel Jace's gaze on her like she had expected.

Confused, Clary glanced quickly over at Jace, wondering what trick he was up to now. When she snuck a look at him though, Jace was looking steadily up front at Ms. Jacobs, not even acknowledging Clary's presence. Clary was startled for a moment, but hurriedly shook it off, trying to be glad that she didn't have to deal with Jace's mysterious stares.

Halfway through the class however, Jace spoke.

"I broke up with Aline you know." His voice was quiet, and when Clary shifted to look at him, his head was down. Jace hadn't been present for breakfast when Isabelle and Clary woke up, and was out of the house before they were ready to leave, so consequently she hadn't spoken to him since their encounter last night. Clary had to forcibly restrain herself in order not to react to the memory of their kiss.

"You didn't have to do that," Clary whispered back. Whatever she said though, Clary was secretly glad that he had. Kaelie didn't deserve to get someone like Jace.

"You know I did," Jace retorted, his voice firmer as he finally looked back at her. His golden eyes were intense as they looked steadily into Clary's. "No one should ever do what she did to another human being. I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end. I can only imagine how you feel; being abused as a kid makes you feel like complete shit." Jace paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. Clary hung on his every word, shocked into silence at the broken sound of his voice. "Like you're worthless," he whispered. Jace's eyes left Clary's, and he stared off distractedly into empty space.

Clary nodded softly. It was true. Both Kaelie and the orphanage mistress had made her feel like she was useless, like no one wanted nor would ever want her. Her heart clenched for a second as she imagined Jace having to go through the same thing she had dealt with, but from his own father. She knew exactly how he must have felt. "Thank you," Clary whispered, dropping her eyes to her desk.

Jace looked back at her curiously, cocking his head in confusion. "For what?" he asked bluntly. "Aline had it coming to her anyways. At least now she's the laughing stock of the school." Jace grinned to himself.

"I know, but –thanks anyways," she stammered awkwardly. For whatever reason, Clary felt like he had done something much more for her than just breaking up with his girlfriend. Jace nodded at her in understanding, falling silent once more.

"And this would be the rising action of the story, class," Ms. Jacobs explained, pointing at a diagram of a book on the board. "The characters are just beginning to blossom and grow, and their conflict is unfolding along with them."

"This is so boring," Jace whispered, his eyes on Ms. Jacobs. "We're in honors English –this is like, seventh grade stuff. What a joke."

"It's important," Clary replied, shrugging. "Without rising action, stories would suck."

"I guess…" Jace fell quiet again, picking at the curling edges of his notebook, Clary just sighed and continued listening to Ms. Jacobs. They spent the rest of the class in silence, but luckily, the tension Clary had felt in the beginning had already dissipated.

When Clary headed towards Isabelle's table at lunch, Isabelle was already there, bouncing up and down in her seat with excitement.

"I told you he wasn't an asshole!" she crowed, drawing a couple strange looks from people around her. "Everyone's talking about how he dumped Aline in front of a whole crowd of kids. Made her run away in tears apparently," Isabelle gushed the moment Clary sat down. "You have to admit that was a pretty epic dump on his part."

Clary just nodded absentmindedly, her thoughts far away from the lunch table. Isabelle looked at Clary curiously, but shrugged it off and turned to another one of her friends to start a conversation instead.

Questions were racing through Clary's head after talking to Jace in English._Why didn't he say anything about last night? Did he even care?_Clary felt like she should have given him an apology at least, or explained why she had run away from him after he had made her food at midnight and kissed her so well that she could feel her lips buzzing for hours after. It was kind of a big deal, in Clary's opinion. So why hadn't Jace said a word?

She was just scared. She was scared that she would end up getting hurt again after all those years of continuous torment at the orphanage. She was scared that she would end up like her mother, falling for the wrong guy. But above all, she was scared that she was going to end up falling in love and relying on Jace, only to be tossed aside, thrown to the gutter and left alone. Clary had been left alone for a large part of her life, and she didn't want it to happen again.

Looking over at Isabelle, Clary reflected that at least this relationship was safe. Isabelle didn't ask anything of Clary, and Clary in return asked nothing of Isabelle. She didn't have to worry about Isabelle hurting her, or ending up feeling alone. Isabelle was a safe friend.

But Jace– Jace was far from safe. Jace was someone who fascinated Clary to no end, someone charmingly beautiful and somehow endearingly arrogant at the same time. But he was also a player; his reputation for being one was outstanding. Clary could feel herself being drawn to Jace, and that was exactly what she didn't want. She knew that given enough time, she would fall in love with Jace, and he probably wouldn't love her back. She didn't even know if that kiss they had shared last night meant anything to him. After her previous experiences, the last thing Clary wanted was to be thrown away.

It would be best for her to keep her distance from a certain Jace Lightwood.

"Clary, I know you're not telling me something." Isabelle's voice broke her out of her thoughts, and Clary instantly snapped to attention.

She blinked at Isabelle, trying to manage a convincing smile. "I'm fine, Isabelle," Clary lied calmly, hoping dearly that her voice didn't hint at the confusion boiling in her heart. Clary hadn't told Isabelle about the kiss; she was worried that Isabelle would take it the wrong way, not to mention the fact that she was Jace's sister.

"Bull shit," Isabelle announced immediately. She leaned in closer to Clary, her eyes narrowing as she lowered her voice into a sinister rumble. "You've been out of it all day, ever since you woke up this morning," Isabelle whispered accusingly. "Something happened and you're not telling me about it. Don't even try to deny it; I can see it in your eyes, Clary."

Clary hesitated for a moment, trying desperately to think of a good cover. She stopped abruptly though, when she saw the real concern hiding in Isabelle's eyes. Isabelle was her friend, after all. She deserved to know the truth, and maybe she would be able to help Clary sort herself out too. Isabelle had already seen the painting of Jace, and had already guessed at Clary's feelings. It couldn't hurt to tell her.

"I kissed Jace last night," Clary rushed out, looked down underneath the lunch table at her hands to avoid seeing the expression on Isabelle's face. Would she be angry? Upset? Annoyed?

After a moment of silence, Isabelle spoke.

"Well, I kinda knew it would happen sometime or another."

Clary looked up with wide eyes, thoroughly shocked by that calm, offhanded reply. Isabelle was grinning wickedly. "What?" Clary squeaked, unable to believe she was handling it so well.

"Girl, you would have to be blind not to see the way you two look at each other," Isabelle informed her, a mischievous twinkle dancing in her eyes. "Jaceykins needs a better girlfriend than those airheads he usually dates. You're perfect for that job- you can un-bloat his head every once in awhile."

"But that's not the end of it," Clary interrupted. She couldn't stand to hear Isabelle talk like that for a second longer. "I kind of… ran away from him," she admitted quietly.

"Why in the world did you run away from him?" Isabelle's voice had grown incredulous.

Clary slumped down further in her seat. "I don't know," she groaned. "I don't want to fall for anybody, especially not Jace." Clary started to look around the giant lunch room for the boy in question. Her eyes were still searching when Isabelle finally answered.

"You've still got him pinned down to the wrong image, Clary. He's really not that bad of a guy. And I'm pretty sure he likes you more than the rest of his girlfriends," Isabelle insisted. "And…"

Clary didn't hear the rest of Isabelle's argument. She had found the person she was looking for, and he was sitting at a table against the back wall of the cafeteria, a girl perched on his lap and running her fingers through his hair. Even from across the room Clary could hear that obnoxious giggle. Jace had his usual smirk on his face as he looked at the girl, his hands resting on her waist.

A surge of anger rushed suddenly through Clary, and she shot up from her seat. Her eyes were stinging, and she could tell she was about to cry. Ignoring Isabelle's voice calling her back, Clary ran out of the cafeteria to find the nearest bathroom.

Turning on the sink, she splashed water onto her warm face, trying to rid herself of her emotions. Clary looked at herself hard in the mirror, staring wide-eyed at her tear streaked cheeks. _Why are you acting like this Clary? Didn't you just say you would stay away__? _"I knew that he was bad for me," she said aloud, her voice wobbling slightly.

She shouldn't care who he dated. It should have meant nothing to her. But somehow, Clary's heart ached with a fierce pain at seeing him with another girl, especially after last night. Maybe Isabelle was wrong. Maybe Jace really didn't care about her.

Clary turned around and leaned back against the sink, closing her eyes and attempting to regain her composure. She couldn't go back out there looking like she had cried her eyes out –that would be mortifying. After a moment though, Clary heard the door slam open, and quickly opened her eyes to see who had entered.

"Hello, Clary," an all too familiar voice snarled.

Clary blanched, pressing back against the sink as if it could protect her from the girl in front of her, the one with the vengeful look in her eyes. Clary could still vividly imagine that night, and that plastic knife in her hand.

"Kaelie."

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**Oh snapp. **

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**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	11. Chapter 10

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Kaelie snarled, her eyes narrowing further at the sound of her old name. "Don't call me that," she hissed, taking a threatening step forward. "I go by Aline now."

Clary's fingers desperately gripped the sink behind her as she tried to maintain a composed mask. Showing she was frightened would only egg Kaelie on further. "Why did you change it?" she asked. Clary was wildly attempting to stay calm and delay Kaelie in her no doubt nasty plan, but she found that she was also curious as to what Kaelie's story was.

Kaelie studied Clary condescendingly for a second before responding. "My foster parents didn't like the name Kaelie, so they changed it to Aline," she finally explained, much to Clary's relief. "They wanted a brand new daughter, not some orphan foster kid, and changing my name helped them believe that." Kaelie's lips sidled into a sick smile. "I imagine that you spent a lot more of your miserable life stuck in that hellhole." She grinned at Clary, her eyes lighting with a sort of twisted joy at the thought of Clary being stuck in the orphanage while she had gotten out.

Clary said nothing in response, but she could feel a cold sweat trickling down her neck as she wondered why Aline was here. Whatever the reason, it couldn't possibly be a good one. She hoped desperately that someone would come in to use the bathroom, and save her from the girl in front of her. Kaelie, seemingly reading Clary's thoughts, walked over to the door and slid the lock into place with an ominous click. Kaelie turned back to Clary with a victorious smile on her face as she reached into her pocket and pulled something out.

It was another plastic knife.

Kaelie held the knife up, idly inspecting the white plastic surface. "Doesn't this feel a little familiar?" she asked, her voice innocent. "You, me, a bathroom… and a knife?"

Dread settled thickly over Clary as she realized that Kaelie was right.

She really was to hurt Clary again, and no one could stop her. Clary gulped, but remained silent as Kaelie stepped closer and closer.

"You really shouldn't have told Jace about what I did," Kaelie remarked in an almost casual tone. "That was an extremely stupid move on your part, Clary dearest. I would have left you alone, but what you did made me very mad. I suppose I'll just have to even out the score now."

Clary's heart leapt into her throat, choking her into a frightened silence as Kaelie drew closer to her and raised the knife. Memories of the orphanage flitted through her head as she imagined the pain that was going to be repeated.

When she was just inches away from Clary, Kaelie stopped. A strange look of regret was taking over her face, and her eyes seemed suddenly far away. "I would have been better off if I had stayed at the orphanage anyway," she reflected. "My foster parents weren't much different from the orphanage mistress." Kaelie paused again, her eyes wide and almost innocent as her thoughts took over for a second. "And Jace was the one good thing in my life when I moved here. He was my ticket to happiness. And then _you_ came stumbling back." Kaelie's eyes lost their regret, instantly flashing back to their menacing gaze and piercing Clary once more. "And along with you came my old bad luck. Everything was ruined again. Why the hell didn't you just stay where you were?" she snarled, her voice rising to a shout.

"I didn't know you were here," Clary whispered helplessly, trying to push herself as far back as she could from the knife in Kaelie's hand.

Kaelie's snarl grew fiercer at her timid reply. "You don't even deserve to be here," Kaelie informed her mercilessly. "You're just a useless freak, and people take pity on you because you look so small and innocent."

Kaelie closed the last of the distance between her and Clary, gripping the knife tightly in her right hand. She reached out to grab Clary's arm, her fingernails cutting into Clary's skin. Clary yelped as she was dragged forward in Kaelie's grasp, and stumbled to her knees. Kaelie struck the knife to Clary's upper arm, the dull plastic blade slicing an uneven cut across Clary's skin. Clary let out a whimper at the pain, tears pricking at her eyes as she watched the bright red blood welling up from the wound.

"You've taken too much from me, Clary. I hope you suffer as much as I have," Kaelie hissed. Her voice was low and filled with a hatred that scared Clary just as much as the knife.

Before Kaelie could strike again though, a loud bang sounded at the locked door. Kaelie dropped Clary's arm in surprise, whirling to face the door as a look of horror filled her face.

Someone was pounding ferociously against the door, the hinges vibrating as each blow weakened it further. Kaelie froze in shock, the knife still hanging from her hand and dripping Clary's blood from the blade as she gaped at the door.

After a few more pounds, the door finally gave way to a feral Jace, who bounded in with a fierce look on his face. Clary stared up at him, wondering how in the world he had managed to ram through the hard wood door with just his shoulder as a tool. Behind him, Isabelle peered into the bathroom, her eyes concerned.

Clary let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the two. Her fear dissipated as Jace's eyes locked on hers, the very sight of him making her feel instantly protected. She brought her hand up to her bleeding arm and tried to staunch the wound with her fingers. She could only be glad that it wasn't too deep.

"Aline, what the hell were you doing?" Jace bellowed at Kaelie, his eyes flashing away from Clary's to glare at his ex-girlfriend.

Kaelie's face was still contorted in shock, and she remained silent as Jace strode across the bathroom and grabbed her arm just as she had grabbed Clary's- hard and unforgivingly.

"You're more disgusting than I imagined," he spat at her, his eyes boring furiously into Kaelie's. Jace ripped the knife from her hand and chucked it across the floor, not even turning to look as it clattered under one of the sinks. He shoved her arm away from him. "Isabelle, can you take her out of here?" he asked, his voice now deadly calm. Isabelle nodded in reply, moving forward and grabbing Kaelie to push her out the door. Kaelie gave little resistance in return: she seemed to still be in shock that she had been caught. Isabelle sent a small, reassuring smile in Clary's direction as she shoved Kaelie out, the door swinging shut again behind her.

Jace rubbed his forehead wearily, his eyes closing for a moment. Clary simply stared up at him, completely thrown by what had just happened. As if he could feel her gaze on him, Jace suddenly snapped back to attention, hurrying over to where Clary sat feebly by the sink. He knelt next to her, taking her bleeding arm into his hands. Somewhere in the back of her head, Clary vaguely registered that his hands were warm and comforting against her skin.

"Are you okay, Clary? Did she hurt you anywhere else?" Jace asked urgently, looking Clary over for other visible wounds.

Clary shook her head numbly. "She only got one cut on me before you guys showed up," she replied shakily. "How did you know what was happening?" Clary's voice was soft as she stared gratefully up at Jace's worried face.

"I saw Aline follow you out of the cafeteria. I could kind of guess from there," he explained. Jace reached up to the sink, pulling off a length of paper towels from the dispenser and wrapping them around Clary's arm as he spoke. "It took me a while to find the right bathroom though. Why did you have to pick the farthest one?" Jace tried to smirk at Clary, but it didn't quite reach his concerned eyes.

Clary managed a small smile at his light teasing. After all, it was Jace she was dealing with. "I don't really know where the bathrooms are yet. I've been here for three days," she grumbled.

Jace let out a short laugh. "Well I guess I'll have to show you them so it's more convenient for me the next time you need saving," he replied, smoothing the last paper towel over Clary's arm.

Clary rolled her eyes at Jace's ability to crack a joke in the worst situations. "Thank you for your kindness," she deadpanned. Jace laughed again, and Clary smiled slightly before becoming serious again. "I don't know what she would have done if you hadn't come," she whispered. Clary let her appreciation leak into her voice as she looked up at Jace's face.

"My pleasure," Jace breathed, the gold of his eyes darkening as he gazed back at Clary.

Clary sat entranced for a few moments, the deep pool of Jace's eyes reminding her of why she felt so strongly for him. For a moment, he really was the angel that she had painted; her savior. Who knew what Kaelie would have done to her if Jace hadn't shown up. Clary slowly leaned forward, and Jace bent closer to her.

Then Clary remembered the scene that had caused her to run from the cafeteria in the first place. She hastily jerked back, springing up from the floor and ignoring Jace's look of surprise as she stalked towards the door.

"Clary, wait." Clary ignored him. Her hand was just reaching for the doorknob when Jace intercepted it, pulling Clary back towards him. "What happened?" he demanded, staring at her confusedly.

Clary shot Jace a glare and tried to snatch her arm back. "Go back to that blonde that was all over you. She might require some saving too," Clary snapped. Then she hurriedly looked away, realizing a little too late what she had just said.

Jace's hand appeared underneath her chin as he brought her face back up to look at his.

"Why are you upset about that?" he asked gently, cocking his head slightly as those golden eyes searched through hers.

"I'm not upset," mumbled Clary, trying to avert her eyes from Jace's gaze. She knew she was lying; seeing him with another girl affected her much more than it should have.

"Clary…" Jace's voice held a tinge of amusement. "I thought you didn't want me? That's what I assumed when you ran away from me last night."

Clary cringed internally at the memory. "Jace…It's not that I don't want you," she rushed out, feeling uselessly tongue-tied as she tried to explain. "I'm just not ready for that kind of relationship –I'm scared. But I don't know why I don't like seeing someone else with you…" Clary felt her face grow warm; she had just admitted to Jace himself that she had some feelings for him.

Jace's face was conflicted as he looked back at Clary. "Who do you want me to be then Clary, if you won't accept me as anything more than just another guy?" he asked simply.

Clary felt tears sting her eyes again, and she couldn't bring herself to answer. Jace sighed, lifting his other hand up so he could hold her face properly.

"Clary, I'm not going to pretend I don't have feelings for you," he admitted finally. "I do like you, more than I have let on. But if you don't want me as anything more than a friend, that's fine with me. I'll be anything you want me to be Clary, even if that's nothing." The gold of his eyes brightened as he met Clary's gaze strongly. "Do you understand?"

A surge of emotion passed through Clary, simultaneously flooding her with warmth and confusion. She flung her arms around Jace, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Jace," she croaked, hot tears finally spilling from her eyes and soaking into Jace's shirt.

Jace's arms rose and circled her body, and he gently stroked Clary's back as she cried. "It's fine, Clary," he murmured soothingly. "I'd like to be able to keep you any way I can, even if it's nothing more than as a friend."

"Thank you," Clary whispered brokenly. A wave of relief crashed over her as the conflict between her mind and heart resolved. Jace wasn't that annoying arrogant jerk anymore, nor was he that confusingly perfect guy Clary couldn't make up her mind about.

Jace was her friend.

* * *

**And there we have it :D**

**Don't hate me. They can't stay friends for long, I promise you ;)**

**TMI, amazing job, once again.**

**Review my lovelies~**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	12. Chapter 11

**HEy guys, sorry for the delay. It was a crazy week, but now I'm back! Hopefully the updates will go back to normal. But one week updates aren't that bad :P**

**Enjoy my lovelies~**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

"Luke, I'm home!"

Clary opened the door to the house and stepped inside, slinging her backpack down from her shoulder to set down in the kitchen. She peeked into the living room in search of her foster father, but did not find him in his usual armchair. Clary was slightly surprised: every other time she had come home from school this week he had been seated in that chair, reading a book or amusing himself in some way. "Luke?" Clary repeated, louder this time.

No answer.

Walking through to the dining room, she finally spotted Luke hunched over at the dining table, his back to her.

"Luke?" Clary asked cautiously. He still didn't reply, although he had to have heard her by now. She stepped closer to investigate what Luke was doing.

Scattered haphazardly over the dining table were dozens of faded pictures. Clary looked at them curiously for a moment before realizing that these were the contents of the box marked 'Idris', the box that Luke had taken the picture of her father from to show Clary. Luke's fists were tightly balled and pressed against the top of the table, his head bent and motionless.

Clary stopped in her tracks, overcome with a sudden rush of emotion at Luke's sorrow. She hadn't seen him like this before, and it scared her.

Clary reached out with a shaking hand and set it carefully on his shoulder, feeling trembles running down his back at the contact. She winced, tightening her grip comfortingly on Luke and moving closer to study the pictures that were still spread about on the tabletop.

The same flaming hair that crowned her own head and the bright green eyes that were copied onto her face stared back at Clary from one photograph. She reached over and touched the surface of an especially old one, the corners of which were curled and turning a pale yellow. It was Jocelyn Fray, who looked to be around Clary's age, wrapped in a pair of arms that completely enveloped her body and beaming happily out at Clary.

Clary picked up the picture, and with closer inspection she immediately recognized the boy who had his arms around her mother as Luke. Those bright, kind brown eyes hadn't changed through all those years, although his teenage self looked very different in other aspects.

"Luke, why…?" Clary started helplessly. She trailed off, gazing at the picture of him and her mother and trying to figure out what had brought Luke to this state.

"I loved her Clary." Luke's voice was broken and strained, and he did not lift his head up as he spoke.

Clary dropped the picture back onto the table, but kept her hand on Luke's shoulder as his trembling continued. She couldn't for the life of her think of something reassuring to say. Jocelyn Fray had loved another man, had Clary, and died years ago. What could she possibly say?

"I would have loved to have you as a father," Clary whispered finally, as Luke stilled.

After a moment, Luke looked up at Clary, his eyes grateful and bright with the tears that had previously occupied them. He reached out wordlessly and pulled Clary into a hug, his head resting on Clary's shoulder. Clary hugged him back, feeling as if he truly was her own father.

After a few moments, Luke pulled back and swiped at his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually like this," he apologized. "It just so happens to be the anniversary of your mother's and my friendship today." He gave Clary a sad smile. "Exactly thirty years ago we promised to always be there for each other. And I left her when she needed me."

The smile turned bitter, then dropped from his face. Luke turned his gaze back down at his hands.

"It's not your fault, Luke. It was her decision to marry my father wasn't it?" Clary tried to reassure him, but the painfully sorrowful expression on his face didn't change.

"But I could have easily stopped her, Clary," Luke replied, his voice both calm and helpless at the same time. "I could have taken her away from him, and saved her a lot of pain. I could have told her I loved her, and been a man instead of running away."

Clary slid down onto another chair and faced Luke. "If you think about it that way, Luke, then I could have stopped her from going out that night of the car crash, and saved her from her fate," Clary whispered. She swallowed a wave of misery that threatened to overwhelm her at the memory, and continued on in a quiet voice. "But I didn't know what was going to happen any more than you did. It's not your fault. And you've repaid her enough by taking me in."

Luke smiled at Clary once again. "Thank you," he said simply.

Clary just smiled back.

Abruptly, Luke's eyes hardened and Clary shifted uncomfortably as she realized he had noticed the bandages wound around her upper arm. "What happened to your arm?" Luke demanded, leaning over to Clary and pointing at the injury. He took Clary's arm in his hands and examined the bandage that covered her upper arm more closely, obviously waiting for an explanation.

Sighing, Clary decided to tell him the truth. Lies would be useless in this case, and she felt too drained to bother with making up a likely story. "Kaelie cornered me in the bathroom –and she had a knife again." Clary saw Luke opening his mouth to exclaim, and quickly continued. "But its fine Luke," she assured him. "Jace and Isabelle stopped her. I don't think she'll do anything more."

One of Luke's eyebrows rose, and Clary tried to disregard the sudden bout of jealousy that flared up in her at the sight. She had always wished she could do that.

"Jace?" he questioned, his voice taking on a protective tone.

"Isabelle's adopted brother." Clary explained quickly, waving off his concern.

Luke continued to look curiously at Clary, but thankfully dropped the subject. "Stay here a moment," he said finally, walking out of the room. "I'm going to grab a first aid kit to check that battle wound of yours."

Clary waited patiently, looking curiously over the photos spread out on the table to pass the time. Most were of Jocelyn and Luke, although there were others with more group photos of different people also. Clary studied more pictures of her father in his teenage years, wondering how he would have compared to Luke.

She decided that from Luke's descriptions, she was glad she didn't know.

Luke reappeared quickly, a small white box in his hand. "Let me just make sure it's not too bad," he muttered, and gently peeled off the bandage Isabelle and Jace had applied during lunch. He gasped at the angry red line zig-zagging up Clary's arm and quietly cursed to himself.

"To think girls like that exist," Luke mumbled, shaking his head. Clary felt a sting as he squirted antiseptic carefully onto her wound, but it was soon soothed as Luke rewrapped it with a new bandage.

"You're good to go," Luke announced after a moment, gently patting the finished bandage. "Keep Isabelle and this Jace close to you alright? I don't want this to happen again."

Clary nodded and hopped off the chair, flexing her arm under the new bandage. "Thanks Luke." She gave him one last smile as she left the room, snagging her backpack from the kitchen and heading upstairs.

As soon as Clary reached her room, she fell backwards onto her bed and stared at the stars dotting the ceiling, a habit she was starting to acquire whenever she had something on her mind.

So far, that something always seemed to be Jace.

But now Clary was relieved; she didn't have to deal with those confusing feelings that surrounded him anymore. They were friends.

Just friends.

Something sparked inside her at the thought, something she didn't especially want to think about. If they were just friends, it meant Jace was free to do as he wished with other girls.

_Like that blonde whore, _Clary thought before she could stop herself. She didn't even know the girl from the lunch room, yet still she couldn't help but want to rip her throat out.

But they were only friends, right? So why did it matter to her? Why did she feel like she might commit a murder if Jace picked up a new girlfriend anytime soon?

As much as she hated to admit it, Jace and his love life did matter to her. She had already admitted that she had feelings for him, to him and to herself. She was just too afraid to pursue them. Her fear didn't make those feelings disappear though –they were still bubbling beneath the surface, clawing to be released. She would keep them contained to maintain their friendship, but Clary knew she was going to have a hard time thinking of Jace as nothing more than a friend; even if it was her idea in the first place.

* * *

Jace waited patiently for Clary to appear at English the next day, his pencil tapping the desk in a rhythm. Usually she was here before him but today she appeared to be running late. He was only kept waiting a minute longer though before Jace saw the bright red of her hair flash through the doorway. He smiled involuntarily at the sight.

_Look at yourself Jace,_ He chided to himself, _Turning_ _into a marshmallow for a redheaded shortie. __Your name shouldn't be Jace, it should be That Pathetic Sap in The Back Row._

Jace smirked as Clary's eyes met his, keeping his thoughts expertly hidden behind a façade of his trademark arrogance. He had to hold back laughter as he saw Clary's face turn a bright red as she approached, trying and failing not to let him affect her. She sat down quietly next to him and turned to face him with a shy smile, which he easily returned.

"I have some good news for you," Jace started, watching Clary's eyes grow curious, "Aline pulled out of the school yesterday afternoon. Looks like we won't be seeing her anytime soon."

Clary's face relaxed and Jace could practically feel the relief roll off of her in waves at the thought of Aline's disappearance. He spotted the bandage that had been redone and was glad that she was safe again.

Although, he wouldn't have minded protecting her.

"Alright class, today we'll start off by giving you your unit project." Ms. Jacobs brought the class to attention, "You all will work with one partner and it's due next Monday. It's quite simple really; you just have to present the motifs and symbols of one literary work of your choice in a clever or creative way, and the only restriction is, the work has to be one published before the 1980's."

The class groaned in unison at this announcement. Yet to Jace's amusement, he noticed that Clary perked up at the mention of the project.

"All right now, you'll be paired up boy-girl, and I'll have the boys will pick their partner out of this bowl." Ms. Jacobs held up a blue plastic bowl lying on her desk, stirring the small slips of paper nestled inside. The girls began to giggle, and a hum of whispering took over the classroom as they discussed who they would love to be paired up with. Many of the girls turned to peek over at Jace, who gladly smirked back at them.

Turning to Clary, he saw that her face had turned red again, and she refused to meet Jace's eye. Jace wondered what was wrong with her.

One by one, Ms. Jacobs called up each boy to the front of the room. The guys walked up in alphabetical order to take a slip out of the bowl, and soon it was Jace's turn. He sauntered over to where Ms. Jacobs was standing, ignoring the flirtatious looks that the girls shot him as he passed by. He kept his eyes forward as he pulled out a slip, fishing one out decisively and unfurling it in his hand.

"Clary Fray,_"_ he read out loud. Disappointed grumbles sounded quietly throughout the room as the majority of the female population shot poisonous glares at Clary. She didn't seem to notice though, seeing as she was busy staring up at Jace.

Jace met Clary's wide eyes and gave her his best smirk. To his surprise, she smirked back, the curve of her lips equally as mischievous as his.

_What were the odds?_

* * *

**:o **

**What were the odds? ;)**

**Thank you TMI~~**

**She's amazing.**

**Anywho,**

**Review for a smexy mushy Jace?**** )**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	13. Chapter 12

**Sorry for the delay again guys! I had trouble writing this chapter and barely had time to, too :c**

**This is just a filler chapter, but its important. I hope you like!**

**Read on~**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

It was lunch time, and Clary was sitting with Isabelle and her friends again. Clary picked up her peanut butter sandwich, scrutinized it for a moment, and wearily put it back down. She had had a pretty big breakfast this morning, and since Clary still wasn't used to having so much food all the time her stomach was still full from the earlier meal. Instead of eating, Clary looked out across the cafeteria, only half-listening to Isabelle ranting about how idiotic her science teacher was. Before she could stop herself, Clary's gaze fell automatically across the room to Jace, expecting and dreading to see the blonde from yesterday all over him once again.

Instead, she found herself looking straight into Jace's eyes, their gazes locking the instant eye contact was made. To look over and see that golden gaze already staring straight back sent a jolt of something –something cold and hot and electric all at the same time– crashing suddenly into her stomach. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Clary noted vaguely that the blonde girl was nowhere in sight, but all she could clearly concentrate on at that moment was Jace. There was no doubt about who he was focusing that heated gaze on- he was very pointedly staring directly at her. Clary couldn't comprehend why, but she did know that she didn't want it to end.

A spark of emotion flitted abruptly onto Jace's previously blank, intense face. He smirked at her, flashing that chipped tooth that Clary could see so clearly even from across the room. Clary thought to herself that she knew that smile so well, that she could draw it perfectly in her sleep.

A wave of heat flooded throughout Clary, making her blush and break the eye contact to look quickly back down at the table. Soon though, Clary realized that all of the chatter at the table had halted, and glanced up to check what was wrong.

Every single one of the girls had abandoned their lunches and conversation in favor of staring at her strangely.

"What?" Clary asked nervously, her eyes wide with confusion.

Isabelle shook her head, shooting Clary a reprimanding look. "You're not allowed to say no to a guy then continuously stare at him like a fool," she chided her, looking disapproving. "Which you very obviously just did."

Maia nodded vigorously in agreement. "And besides, girl, no one in their right mind would ever say no to _him_," she jerked her head towards Jace, who had gone back to eating his own lunch, "Especially since this is like, the first time he's ever gone after someone," Maia added. The rest of the girls murmured their own agreements.

_This was really Jace's first time pursuing a girl? _Frankly, this new information baffled Clary. She thought that he was a major player. "He's never gone after a girl before?" she asked weakly. Clary wondered why this was affecting her heart so strangely: it wasn't like she liked Jace… right? He was just her friend!

Right?

Isabelle shook her head, unaware of Clary's internal confusion. "They always come to him," Isabelle confirmed. "Clary, you're the first one Jace has ever showed any actual interest in before." She paused, looking seriously back at Clary. "And you rejected him," Isabelle finished quietly.

Secretly, the fact that she was the first girl Jace had ever really pursued made Clary far happier than it probably should have. Isabelle was right: she had said no to Jace, so why was she so excited that he liked her? Why was this all so hard for her to comprehend? Why did Jace have to make Clary's mind run in circles?

This thought process did nothing but cause Clary to confuse herself even more.

But Jace liked her. She was the first girl he had ever shown a real interest in that Isabelle knew of, and Isabelle should know, being his sister. Unbidden, a warm glow lit itself in Clary's stomach.

Clary desperately fought to avoid letting her pleasure at the thought show on her face. She shrugged, trying to play cool and pretend she was unaffected by this little bit of information. "I'm not ready for a relationship yet, guys," she murmured at last. Her voice grew softer and she lowered her gaze to the orange plastic tabletop. Clary didn't want to talk about her past with these refreshingly normal and kind girls, but there was no other way to let them know exactly what she was dealing with concerning Jace. "Ten years of not knowing anything but an all-girls orphanage kinda takes something out of you when it comes to teenage guys." Clary chanced a look up to gauge the expressions on her new friends' faces.

Just as she had dreaded, Maya's and Isabelle's faces were soft and sympathetic, and the other girls looked deeply concerned. The last thing Clary wanted was their pity, but she was at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. Finally, Clary stood up from the table, avoiding the other girls' eyes. She threw away her trash and began walking out of the cafeteria, casting one last glance at Jace, who was now looking up at her with a questioning expression.

Clary had to fight the urge to just run over to him and bawl out an explanation. Ignoring everything in her that screamed for her to go to Jace, Clary turned her back on him and raced out of the room.

* * *

Clary stared at the finished painting on the easel in front of her, pleased with the final results. The art class project of her mother's portrait had been finished, and Clary waited silently for the teacher to come over and appraise her work.

Somehow, Clary had subconsciously painted her mother's half hidden face with a pained expression as she looked out the window. Her green eyes were filled with weariness and sorrow, and all Clary wanted to do was jump inside the painting and run to her mother. She just wanted to try and get that hurt out of her mother's painfully far-off face.

"Clary?" A familiar voice asked. Clary snapped out of her reverie and back into the art room, looking up to none other than Simon. His glasses were contorted in their usual half bent shape, and the eyes behind them held a note of amusement.

"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" Clary apologized, blinking up at Simon. She furiously attempted to shove away the newly aroused sorrow rushing through her chest, trying valiantly to appear casual.

Although Clary felt like the worst actress in the world, Simon was apparently fooled by her façade. "Yeah, I was," he chuckled, "But I'm used to you spacing out on me. You do that a lot you know."

Clary laughed with him, and he edged his stool closer to her, smiling broadly.

"What were you saying then, Simon?" Clary asked after a moment, slightly embarrassed by her inattention.

"Well, I was going to ask you something." Simon gazed down at the tiled floor and attempted to straighten his crooked glasses. Clary waited patiently, a little confused by his uncharacteristic hesitation, until Simon lifted his head back up to meet her eyes with a shy smile.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to the dance with me next Friday," he rushed out breathlessly, his face plain with nerves.

Clary stared back at him blankly, thrown by the sudden proposal. "There's a dance next Friday?" she asked bluntly, saying the first thing that popped into her dazed mind.

Simon let out a nervous chuckle and nodded, twisting a pen anxiously in his hands.

_Oh God. _Clary thought. On the outside, she was still smiling politely, but on the inside conflict roared loudly in her ears. Simon was the sweetest guy she had met, but she couldn't possibly think about saying yes to his offer of a date, especially after having denied Jace. She couldn't picture a relationship with anyone right now, but if she tried, Jace was still the boy on her mind- not Simon.

"Simon, I-," Clary started weakly, but Simon cut her off before she could finish.

"We can go just as friends," he assured her quickly, his grip on the pen tightening nervously. "But I thought it might be more fun if I went with you." Simon's eyes locked with hers, radiating a sincerity that even Clary could not deny.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Clary nodded once. It wasn't much of a confirmation, but Simon saw it, visibly perking up. She wasn't quite sure what she was getting herself into, but Clary liked Simon too much to disappoint him with a rejection. Along with Jace and Isabelle, he was one of her best friends in this alien environment called a high school.

Simon's eyes lit up at Clary's answer. "I'll pick you up Friday then!" he told her, grinning enthusiastically. "Just give me your address so I know where to go, alright?"

Clary nodded, extracting a notebook from the pile of supplies beside her chair and ripping a small piece out. She scribbled Luke's address onto it and handed the scrap to Simon, who took it happily. At the same moment, the bell rang and Clary began gathering up her stuff.

"See you on Monday, Clary!" Simon called cheerfully, and he bounded out the door before Clary could respond.

Shaking her head slightly, Clary followed him outside and slipped into the current of the crowded hallway to her locker, where Isabelle and Jace stood at their usual spot waiting for her.

"Hey guys," Clary greeted them quietly. She opened her locker, throwing her books inside and desperately avoiding eye contact with either at them. She wasn't sure how to act after what had happened at lunch.

"Are you okay Clary?" Isabelle asked softly, looking uncharacteristically hesitant as she gazed at her friend.

"I'm fine," Clary assured her, her voice falsely bright. "Sorry about flipping out on you in the cafeteria, I was just kind of tired and-"

"Clary." Jace's voice was low and calm, yet it held a certain note to it that made Clary look up from her backpack.

Jace's face was void of the usual playful smirk, which was replaced with an intensely scrutinizing look that made Clary feel like he knew everything she was thinking. The gold of his narrowed eyes pierced Clary and she met them with her wide green ones.

"Yeah?" Clary prompted, her voice shaking slightly.

Clary mentally cursed at the pathetically weak sound of her voice. Thankfully, Jace didn't comment, but the searching look dropped from his face and his eyes were softer as they gazed at her. "You should come to our house tomorrow so we can work on the English project," he told her, his voice surprisingly gentle. "We only have two days to finish it anyway."

Clary gulped and nodded, trying not to think about what had happened the last time they had been in that house together. The guarded, slightly pained expression on Jace's face told her that he was thinking precisely the same thing she was. She waved at them and left, distancing herself from the look on Jace's face. The idea of being alone with Jace frightened her to the core, and she felt nervous shivers run down her spine.

But although Clary wanted to deny it, deep inside of her she knew she was hoping for a chance to be alone with him again.

* * *

**This chapter would have been impossible without TMI, so thank yo thank you thank you!**

**Next chapter will be fun ;)**

**Review for some alone time with Jace!**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	14. Chapter 13

**Hey guys! Not much to say, just enjoy this chapter :)**

**Oh and btw. The fun parts of the story will start very soon. Just saying ;)**

**Enjoy~**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

Only the ornate door stood before Clary, and all she could do was stand and stare. The dark wood was engraved with swirling arches and the brass handles gleamed in the sunlight. She could see her hazed reflection in them; an easily visible look of nervousness was clear on her pale face. The regal aura of the Lightwood house made her pause, and her memories of the last time she was here made her shiver.

With a burst of courage, Clary quickly rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer her. Her hands were shaking, and her breath hitched when the sound of a lock clicking open came from inside the house. Her breathing halted as she looked up, expecting to see deep gold pools-

Instead, she found herself looking at the inside of the house. Clary stared blankly for a moment, uncomprehending, and it wasn't until she shifted her gaze lower did she see Max standing there, his face alight with happiness. Clary couldn't help but smile back at the younger boy, and her anxiety quickly vanished.

Reaching forward, she ruffled Max's hair in greeting. He gave a small noise of annoyance, but brightened immediately. "Hi Clary!" he chirped brightly. "Jace told me you were coming today!" Max beamed up at her and stepped aside to let Clary come in.

"Oh yeah?" Clary asked, a note of amusement tinging her voice. "What else did he say about me?" Max's vision of Jace was adorable; it was clear that in his opinion, Jace was a shining idol.

Max began to snicker, and Clary's curiosity rose. "I'm not allowed to say!" he squealed. Before Clary could question him further, he ran off further into the house. Clary shook her head and closed the front door behind her, hanging her coat in the closet beside the entryway. She followed Max's escape route to the living room, where she found him sitting on one of the stuffed couches, still giggling.

"And why exactly are you not allowed to tell me?" Clary pried, placing her hands on her hips and attempting to look stern. Max saw easily through her façade and continued to laugh harder.

"He told me he would feed me to the angry hippos if I ever told anyone because they like to eat small children," Max whispered, suddenly serious. His expression dropped into a look of horror and Clary laughed, dropping onto the couch beside Max. Her arms circled his small body, pulling him closer to her. Max squirmed a little, but soon gave in and remained still in Clary's arms.

Lowering her voice, Clary whispered into Max's ear, "I promise I won't tell Jace you said anything." She paused for a moment, then continued in a cajoling tone, "And I'll give you a little surprise if you tell me."

"What's the surprise?" Max asked, looking a little skeptical, but interested.

"You'll find out if you tell me, won't you? And I promise it'll be worth it," Clary assured him.

Max's eyes widened and he nodded eagerly, all qualms about divulging Jace's secret vanished. Clary smiled to herself, thinking about how easy it was to persuade children.

"Jace says you're the prettiest girl he's ever met. And that you can be really stubborn and he thinks you look like a kitten when you're angry." Max rushed out, a look of mischief taking over his face.

Clary giggled nervously; she hadn't expected Jace to say anything like that about her. "Does he really say that?" she asked.

Max nodded. "He talks about you a lot. I agree with him. I think you're pretty too," he confided. Max looked down, his eyes suddenly shy.

Clary hugged him closer for a moment and smiled. "Why thank you Max," she told him sweetly. Max smiled back, snuggling comfortably into Clary.

"What are you two doing?" A curious voice came from the front of the room. Clary looked up to see Jace coming down the last couple steps. His eyes were suspicious as he took in Max and Clary giggling together on the couch. Clary tried not to notice too eagerly that he was shirtless, and his golden curls were wet and clinging to his forehead. In the light filtering in from the windows, Clary could see the swirling tattoos that she had once noticed more clearly, the sun making them gleam almost threateningly.

Max froze automatically at the sight of his older brother, his eyes turning fearful and alarmed. Clary patted him on the head and stood up, before leaning down and whispering reassuringly, "I won't tell him." Max's expression calmed a little, and he gulped and nodded.

She stepped away from him and looked at Jace, the nervousness that she had fought with before resurfacing. He had an eyebrow raised, and looked between Max and Clary as if he knew exactly what they had been doing. Ignoring his lack of a shirt, Clary smiled at him and put up an innocent act. She turned back to Max and told him, "I'll give you your surprise soon, okay?"

Clary knew that that comment would make Jace even more curious, and she wasn't disappointed when she turned back around. His suspicious gaze had grown more intense, and his eyes followed Clary as she walked out of the living room and headed towards the stairs. When Clary passed by Jace, a sudden rush of fearlessness made her stop in her tracks. She gave him an calm look up and down, then ordered, "Go put a shirt on, Jace," before brushing past him and continuing upstairs. Clary resisted the urge to see how he had reacted to that, instead confidently turning the corner and knocking on Isabelle's door.

Isabelle opened it a moment later, grinning as she saw Clary. She was daringly dressed in a skintight black dress that dropped off at the middle of her thigh and bright red stiletto boots.

Clary gave her a knowing look and smiled. "A date I believe?" she guessed, letting out a snicker.

Isabelle smirked and nodded. "I assume you'll enjoy yours with Jace?" she shot back. Isabelle winked and walked out the door past Clary, who was staring at her, mortified.

"I'm kidding Clary. Calm down," Isabelle laughed, smirking again at her friend. It was obvious she was enjoying Clary's reaction. Clary huffed, but still smiled back.

"Have fun Izzy," Clary sang. She waved at Isabelle and watched as the other girl descended the stairs. Jace was coming up that stairs at the same time Isabelle was going down, and Clary found her eyes locked on him. Upon seeing him Clary realized that he had found himself a shirt.

Secretly, she wouldn't really have minded him staying shirtless a little longer.

"Don't get knocked up Izzy!" Jace shouted obnoxiously down the stairs at his sister as she passed. Clary tried in vain to hide her giggles and Isabelle smacked him as hard as she could.

Jace spotted Clary standing at the top of the stairs and motioned for her to follow him. He led her to the last room at the far end of the hallway. When Jace opened the door for her, his expression blank, Clary shyly entered, avoiding his eyes.

Jace's room came as a surprise to Clary. The walls were a solid white, and there were minimal amounts of furniture. Aside from the bronze duvet on the large bed, the room was void of color and kept very, very neat. The only thing that seemed out of place in the empty space was the towel that lay on the bed, which Clary assumed was from his shower. Clary thought about how this bleak place contrasted to her bright room, and couldn't imagine what made Jace keep it the way he did.

She turned around to face him and asked, "Why is it so…white?"

Jace's blank expression broke and he smiled at Clary. "It's just how I've always kept it," he replied, shrugging slightly. "Ever since I can remember, I always had a white room when I lived with my father." Jace walked towards the bed and picked up the towel, which he proceeded to throw into a laundry basket in the corner. The room returned to a state of perfection.

"Oh…" was all Clary could manage to respond. Even in the orphanage, she couldn't imagine living without color. It was a part of her that had always stayed, even in the bleak despair of her life in past years. She plopped down onto the bed and studied Jace, who stood rigidly in the doorway. After a moment, Jace looked over at her and noticed Clary's perplexed expression.

Jace sighed, giving her a knowing look. "I know what you're thinking Clary, and believe me, there are reasons why I act the way I do," he told her. "I'm not a sarcastic asshole just for fun believe it or not." Jace thought for a moment, and then added, "Actually, partially it is for fun. But not completely." Jace flashed his smirk at Clary and he sat down next to her. Within moments though, his face hardened again and he reached up to absentmindedly brush his fingers through his hair. His gaze fell, and Jace looked down at the floor between his feet.

Clary studied him, and with the sudden closeness between them, she spotted for the first time dull red scars along the wrists of the hand that was still in his hair. The starkness of the marks against his skin startled her, and she gently took his wrist in her hands and pulled it down closer to her face.

"What happened?" she asked quietly. The scars frightened her, even if she tried not to show it, and Clary looked up at Jace worriedly.

Jace just smiled sadly back at her and tugged his hand out of her grasp. "I'll make you a deal," Jace offered instead. "I'll tell you the story if you tell me more about yourself. I want to know why you are so reluctant with me." His eyes looked vulnerable as he looked into Clary's and Clary felt herself nodding slowly, agreeing to his terms.

Jace looked back down at the floor. "I think I was 5 or 6, and my father had gotten me a falcon for my birthday," Jace started, sounding slightly far off. "I got the marks from the falcon when he perched on my arm. My father told me to make the falcon obedient, and that was what I tried to do. I used to go out with that falcon for hours, talk to him, and let him eat out of my hand."

Jace paused for a moment, gazing at the scars at his wrist. "I showed him to my father when he began to trust me. He saw that I had made a pet out of the falcon and took him from me, snapping his neck right in front of me." His eyes shut, and he sat silently rubbing his wrist for a moment before continuing once more. "He told me I broke the falcon myself by making him love me, that falcons weren't meant to love anyone. He had it drilled into my head that to love was to destroy. And after living with him for the first years of my life, that's what I began to believe."

Silence settled between them, and not for the life of her could Clary think of anything to say. Looking at Jace when he was like this was so strange for her; seeing his usual bulletproof ego shattered and his seemingly invincible strength broken. It hurt to think that Jace had to go through all that pain as a small boy. Clary hadn't thought that Jace had a difficult past, seeing his strong composure now, and it saddened her. Clary had no choice but to look at him differently now.

He wasn't the arrogant boy that she had been so sure he was.

"I would tell you that what your father did was unfair, and what he said was wrong, but I've felt the same way," Clary admitted finally, her quiet voice breaking the silence. "After my mom died, I didn't trust anyone anymore." Clary breathed in carefully, looking down at the floor the way Jace was. "I couldn't get close to anyone because I was worried I would get hurt even more, or that they would leave me like my mom did. I guess that's why I was reluctant with you. I think that's changing now though, with Luke." After a moment, Clary turned her gaze back up at the boy sitting beside her. She hesitated for a split second then added, "I'm glad I'm changing."

"You know, I'm changing too, Clary," Jace replied, his voice both sad and strong at the same time. "You didn't know me before you moved here, but I used to be a lot different; different in a bad way." Jace shifted his gaze from the floor to Clary, and she couldn't suppress a quiet gasp at the emotions swirling in those golden eyes. "And a lot of the change in me now is because of you. Thank you Clary, for helping me change." Jace's eyes softened, and his lips held a small smile as he gazed at Clary.

Clary nodded, and as she did, she felt another piece of her protective shell chip away. In the back of her mind, she mused that she should probably feel some alarm that Jace was breaking through to her so easily, that she should probably try to stay stronger against letting him have this access to her heart.

But looking into Jace's quiet, open face, Clary couldn't bring herself to do anything but smile back and let those thoughts wash away.

* * *

**:o**

**They're getting even closer! :D**

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**~A.W.W**


	15. Chapter 14

**Oh hello there my lovely little readers :D**

**First, thank you for those reviews. They were amazing and I'm insanely happy right now. Thank you thank you thank youu.**

**I hope you all like this chapter. I wrote it when I was in a strange mood so I don't exactly know how it turned out. But I think you'll like it :D**

**And on we go~**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

In the end, they lay next to each other on the bed, their legs dangling off from one side, project completely forgotten. Clary had folded her hands onto her stomach and looked up at the ceiling next to Jace, content with hearing him talk about his previous life. Her hair was spread apart on the bed behind her, encasing her head in a flaming halo. And at that moment, she didn't really want to move.

A pause in Jace's voice made her look over at him, to see what had stopped him from continuing whatever he was saying. Jace had one of his hands behind his head, and he had perked up, like a cat, as if he had heard a sound. His body had tensed over, and Clary wondered what he had heard in his own house that had made him suddenly rigid.

After a couple nervous seconds, Jace's posture slowly relaxed and he closed his eyes, breathing in and out carefully. When he Clary moved to question him, his eyes snapped open, and he looked at her with a tired smile.

"Sorry about that." His eyes had dropped half shut as he spoke to her softly. "Bad habit I've had from when I was younger. I think Isabelle is home by the sound of the racket."

His guess was right. Within seconds, the sound of heels thumping up the stairs could be heard, but they didn't stop there. They continued past Isabelle's room and headed towards Jace's, and Clary bolted up from the bed as if she had been doing something wrong, though she knew she hadn't. Jace looked at her with an amused expression as Isabelle barged through the door, her eyes alight.

"I was hoping for a more exciting moment to come running in on. Why must you disappoint me so?" She snickered at Clary as her face heated up, and she scrambled off the bed. Jace took a bit longer, lazily unfastening himself from the sheets to look at Clary and Isabelle calmly.

Isabelle looked oddly out of place in Jace's bedroom; her bright dress and sparkling jewelry stood out even more profoundly in the blank white walls of Jace's bedroom. Clary pushed down the urge that she had to draw Isabelle as she saw her, all colors and radiance against a blank background.

"I'm here to take Clary to my room before she has to go. I want to talk to her about something." She bounced up and down at her heels and moved towards Clary to drag her out the door when Jace spoke.

"Hold on a minute Isabelle. I want to show Clary something. Then you can have her." His voice betrayed no emotion as to what exactly he wanted to show Clary, but he looked at them both steadily, as if daring Isabelle to refuse.

Isabelle pouted at this, but let Clary go. "I'll be back in ten minutes whether you like it or not to take her away."

"Uhm, I'm right here you know. You two can stop talking like I'm some toy you both are sharing." Clary crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest, but let them fall when she realized that Isabelle hadn't registered a word that Clary had said.

"Ten minutes," she said threateningly and stalked out of the room.

Jace stood up and walked to the other side of the room, looking over his shoulder at Clary when he realized she wasn't following. "Come on."

He led her to a door that she had originally thought was a closet. Instead though when he opened it, it revealed a small room with a grand piano tucked in one corner. A guitar stood in the corner along with a violin and one side of the room was just windows; it reminded Clary of her own art room back at Luke's house.

The day had darkened to twilight, and the blue-violet light shone through the windows. Her mother had once called this the blue hour, and when they had gone out to the countryside away from the city, she had understood what she had meant. The light during this time of the day was blue, something that could not be seen from the city, where the bright lights blocked out any light from the sky.

But that was years ago. Now that she was away from the orphanage and the city itself, she once again saw what had captured her mother's awe so many years ago, when she could not understand why her mother was so fascinated by it. But this was when her mother's creativity flowed the most profusely, and the artist in Clary agreed.

The bittersweet, faded memories of her mother sitting in front of a window painting came back to Clary, and it took all that was in her not to break down in front of Jace, who was looking at her as if he knew what was going on in her head.

Gently, he took her hand and led her to the edge of the piano bench, which he then sat down on next to her. His looked at her gently for a moment, and Clary's heart clenched further. His usual sarcastic demeanor disappeared into something that made Clary feel like she had something that genuinely cared.

He broke the gaze after a few moments to lift up the cover that shut the keys. He gently tapped a couple keys before both of his hands were brought up to the piano, and flew across the keys so fast that Clary couldn't keep track of them.

The music that flowed out of him stunned Clary. She sat, admiring the way his fingers seemed to glide over the keys effortlessly. She had always wanted to play an instrument, yet her mother had been adamant to her letting her take classes. She always preferred Clary to pursue art, or reading.

Whatever it was that Jace was playing for her right now, it filled Clary with a sense of peace. The soft piano hummed in her ears and she closed her eyes to take in all of it. Her shoulder was lightly touching Jace's and she could feel the muscles working as his hands moved on the piano.

The music slowed to a stop and Jace's hands stilled, yet he did not raise his head to look at Clary. An overpowering urge to touch him came over Clary, and she placed a hand gently on his shoulder. At her touch, he shuddered and looked up, his eyes revealing a weakness that Clary had only caught glimpses of.

Pushing aside all her anxieties over Jace, she closed the distance but them and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She didn't know what he had just given her, but it had taken a lot to do it.

Jace's arms came around Clary, and she thought she felt him tremble as he rested his head against her shoulder. She stroked his golden hair softly, reveling in the silky texture that passed through her fingertips.

Soon, Jace stilled and released Clary from his hold on her. When he looked at her this time, his eyes held a peace that shone through the rest of him, from his stance to his gentle smile.

"Get going before Isabelle comes running in, shortie." He smirked at her and got up from the piano bench, offering her his hand. She took it and he helped her out the door of his room. He paused by the door and thought for a moment, "And we'll probably have to meet at your house tomorrow. We didn't exactly get anything done."

Clary giggled and little, and then nodded. "You remember where it is right?" Jace nodded and she turned from him, heading towards Isabelle's room.

Walking down the hall of the Lightwood house, Clary turned to see Jace still in the doorway, looking at her as she walked down the hall. He smiled again, and his time Clary smiled back.

She walked the rest of the way to Isabelle's room in a daze, barely noticing that Isabelle sat motionless on her bed, eyes puffy and regular clothes thrown on.

It wasn't until she spoke that Clary realized something was wrong. "Clary, who are you?"

Startled, she looked up to see Isabelle's face hard, very much unlike her usual playful expression. Her question confused Clary; what did she mean?

"I'm Clary. Who else would I be Izzy?" Clary slid down onto the bed next to her, eyeing Isabelle worriedly.

Isabelle sighed, and shook her head. "I guess I'm just jealous. I tried not to show it, but what Jace just did was strange for Jace, even towards _you._"

This just left Clary more confounded than before. "Why in the world would you be jealous of me Isabelle?" Looking at Isabelle's beauty and her fearlessness, Clary couldn't comprehend what was going through her friend's brain.

"I've spent so many years living with Jace. He's always been closed to us, his own family. You've never seen him in any other way that how you've seen him, Clary, but he used to be much worse. Much more sarcastic and he barely ever smiled. I used to think that Max was the only one that he truly cared about." Her voice drifted off and she stared at her glittering walls.

Isabelle turned to appraise Clary, her eyes wide before continuing. "Then you come along and suddenly he's different. He's more open that I've ever seen him. It's as if he actually saw for the first time, actually saw _us, _instead of the dark that he usually did. I guess I'm glad that he has. But it just makes me wonder why you're so different."

Clary sat silent for a moment, taking it in. Wasn't that what Jace had hinted at earlier? "I don't know if it helps at all, Isabelle," Clary started, her voice meek and quiet, "But he's done the same for me. And so have you. Before I met you guys I was a lot like him, except quiet. I guess I understand because of what happened in his past, as well as mine."

The strange expression had left Isabelle's face, and she looked at Clary with a soft smile. "I know. I remember what you were like the first time I met you. And I'm happy that you did open up; it's nice seeing Jace like this."

They sat together in silence for a little longer, both lost in their thoughts.

* * *

**I guess it was alright. This was also unedited by TMI, so forgive me for any mistakes or imperfections. **

**Review for how sweet Jace can be around Clary? c:**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	16. Chapter 15

**Hey guys! Sorry for the lateness, been insanely busy with work. But I'm here and with a new chapter :D hope you like~**

**Read on!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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"Clary, you're shaking like a leaf," Luke observed. Her adoptive father was looking at her with an all-knowing smirk and Clary blushed. She looked down at her hands on top of the dining table and with some chagrin realized that Luke was right; her fingers were clenched and quivering at the very thought of Jace coming over.

"I'm just cold," Clary muttered, not meeting Luke's eyes. Luke opened his mouth to comment, but before he could speak he was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing through the house. His smirk grew wider as he jumped from his chair and sprinted with surprising agility out of the kitchen, obviously eager to go open the door. Clary hadn't even known Luke could move that fast at all.

_Oh God,_Clary thought, a foreboding rising up in her stomach at the thought of Jace being his usual confident, cocky self in front of protective Luke. She rushed to the door to keep the interaction between Jace and Luke to a minimum.

When she got there, Luke was standing in the doorway scrutinizing Jace, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Uh, hey Jace," Clary greeted him awkwardly, peering around Luke's elbow. "Come inside." Clary gently nudged Luke out of his protective stance at the doorway to allow Jace to enter.

Jace stepped gracefully around Luke, and Clary resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she pushed him towards the stairs, anxious to get him out of Luke's presence. As she followed him up, Luke swiveled from his spot at the still open door and bellowed, "Keep the door unlocked!"

Jace stopped halfway up the next stair and laughed, turning to grin suggestively at Clary. She could feel herself blushing furiously at what Luke's implications, and steadfastly ignored Jace's cocky smirk. Shoving him forward again, she hurried him into the room and shut the door behind her, leaving it unlocked. Clary didn't even want to think about what would happen if Luke came up to find it locked.

Jace was still grinning as he walked around Clary's room and prodded around at her things. He was like an inquisitive cat, pawing at a stack of books on her dresser and touching one brightly colored wall. Another catlike feature of his was his pointed ignoring of Clary's annoyed looks as she tried to keep herself from snapping at him.

"What is it with you Lightwoods and your lack of privacy?" Clary grumbled as he picked up the sketchpad laying on her desk and began to leaf through it.

Jace peered up at her through his eyelashes and flashed a smile. "Privacy who?" he asked sweetly. "Where are the drawings of me? I'm very disappointed, Clary. But that's a good eye for detail you have here," he remarked, tapping the intricate swirls of a fairy's wing on the page.

"Thank you," Clary replied shortly, snatching the book from him and thumping it down on the desk again. She sat down on her bed, arms folded with a huff, eyeing Jace warily as he continued to look around.

"It's not really my style, but it's nice," he admitted. "Very colorful." Jace smiled at her again. Clary snorted, remembering the blank white and neat 'style' of Jace's own room. Jace stopped abruptly in front of her art room's door, looking curiously back at her.

"That doesn't look like a closet door," he commented, one hand already on the doorknob. "What is it?"

Clary bit her lip, wondering if it was a bad idea to tell him what it really was. Would he laugh? Or would he think it was interesting, like his own secret piano room?

"It's my…art room," she muttered finally, and watched as his eyebrows rose. He turned the doorknob slowly with his eyes locked on her face, as if asking for her permission. Clary nodded once, and followed after him as Jace opened it and walked inside.

She was desperately hoping that she had hid away that painting of Jace. It was bad enough that Isabelle had seen it, and she didn't need Jace's ego swelling too.

Jace stood in the center and looked around appreciatively. "It's like my music room," he noted, repeating the thought that Clary herself had had both moments ago and yesterday.

Clary stepped inside after Jace, distracted by his golden features and feeling embarrassed and shy because of it. It seemed as though every time she looked at him, it was a shock for her senses. She could never get tired of looking at him, Clary thought, and resisted the urge to tackle him and cuddle up to his side.

No, bad thoughts! Clary tried to mentally slap herself to distract herself from Jace and his potential as a tackle-and-cuddle victim.

It didn't work out very well.

In her distraction however, Jace had reached the carefully covered canvass that she had propped up in the corner of the room. After Isabelle's prompt discovery of the painting, Clary had draped a large white sheet over it as an attempt at hiding it from view. Before Clary could find her voice and order him to not to touch it, Jace drew the sheet off of it in a swirl and dropped it to the floor.

Clary squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that Jace somehow miraculously wouldn't catch the resemblance between the painted golden angel and himself. When Clary peeked up to look at him, however, she knew that she her hopes were in vain.

Jace was staring at her in a mixture of awe and wonder. He glanced back at the painting again to scrutinize it further, and a soft little smile had crept onto his face by the time he looked back at Clary.

"So this is where you hide your drawings of me," he remarked airily. Clary winced, dreading the teasing that was bound to follow. "I knew you had to have some somewhere! It's unnatural not to, and I must admit this is an ingenious hiding spot." Jace looked back at the painting, grinning roguishly. "I am an angel, aren't I Clary dearest?" he added sweetly.

Clary covered her face with her hands, her face hot under her fingers. She resisted adamantly when she felt Jace's gentle hands try to tug her fingers away from her face. Clary didn't want to know what he thought about the painting. He was probably creeped out that she had drawn him as an angel. What guy wanted a girl to paint a portrait of him after knowing him for a day?

"Clary," Jace chuckled softly. Clary refused to respond, wondering if she could sink into the floor. That was a nice thought right about now. "Clary," Jace repeated, folding his arms around her and pulling him against his chest. Clary dug her forehead into the hollow at his neck, somehow finding comfort in his nearness even as she wanted to curl up and die in mortification. "It's a wonderful painting," he murmured into her hair. "Why are you so upset?"

"You weren't supposed to see it…" Clary mumbled, annoyance taking over her embarrassment.

"I'm actually quite flattered you chose to paint me," Jace admitted, a grin coming out in his voice. "Especially in that fashion. By the way, I must say I look ridiculously dashing with wings."

Clary hit him on the chest, pulling her head back and throwing him a glare that clearly read not to joke about it. Jace ignored it and continued to laugh, releasing Clary from his hold.

"Come on now. We have a project to do." Jace walked out of the art room, and threw a wink over his shoulder at Clary.

* * *

"We found her."

The man whirled in his chair at the computer to face his boss, who was sitting up in interest on the luxurious couch behind him.

Valentine, carefully dressed in an impeccable suit and tie, glanced up surprise. "Are you sure it's her?"

"Positive," the first man confirmed. "I hacked onto school district archives. Her info says she has a guardian, no parents. And her last name is Fray."

Valentine chuckled. "Perfect. Where is she?"

"Small town in New York." the first guy answered, swiveling back to look at the computer in front of him. "About a four hour drive from here."

"Good. I want everything moved as quickly as possible into that vicinity."

"I'm right on it sir," Another man spoke up from behind Valentine, bobbing his head once as he tapped a command onto his phone screen.

"Good, good," Valentine purred. "It seems that the time is right to take her back, yes?" He looked around appreciatively at his men, all of whom he had known for years. They would follow his every order to the letter, which was just the way Valentine needed it.

Sounds of approval resonated through the room. Valentine laughed, his voice eerily echoing in every corner.

* * *

**:o**

**Another surprise? ;)**

**Review kiddies~**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	17. Chapter 16

**Hey guys! Sorry for the huge delay, I had some things I had to deal with and then TMI couldn't edit it for a bit either. The total time ending up being amounted to a month which was not my intention :x**

**But I'm back! And alive~ Another filler-y type chapter but once again, it's important.**

**AND OMG ALL THOSE REVIEWS #$%^&* I love you guys -hug- Think we can get to 200 in this chapter or the next?**

**Enjoy~**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

"And thank you for listening to our presentation."

Clary and Jace took a bow, and the class exploded into a chorus of applause. Clary smiled in satisfaction at the sound, even though she did have a more-than-slight suspicion that it was at least partly due to the girls swooning over Jace. Some of the girls even stood up and cheered shamelessly and enthusiastically, their eyes locked on Jace. His answering smirk proved that he knew the root of the applause as well as Clary, and it sure wasn't the presentation. Jace winked at the girl, who promptly fell silent in delighted shock.

Clary rolled her eyes at the flirtatious girls, grabbing at Jace's sleeve to drag him back towards their seats before he could cause any permanent damage. Ms. Jacobs gave the two an approving smile as they passed, and Clary knew that they had done well on the project.

The class passed by in a flurry of presentations, some interesting, some inexcusably monotonous. Clary kept her sketchbook on her lap under the desk, drawing absently as she listened. Jace didn't bother with a pretense of attention: he kept his eyes on Clary's sketchbook, quietly watching her pictures come to life stroke by stroke. With some surprise, Clary realized that she wasn't so flustered by his gaze anymore. Instead, it felt almost natural that he watch as she drew.

Did that mean something?

Once the bell rang, everyone leaped from their chairs and hurried from the room, relieved to be finally free of the presentations. Clary wasn't as hasty to leave, and stayed behind the rush of students to carefully pack up her things.

To her surprise, Jace did something he had never done before: he waited patiently outside of the door as she tucked her papers into her binder and stowed away her pencils. Clary waited for him to leave like he usually did, but Jace stayed in place as she finished packing up and walked out the door. Jace said nothing as she exited the classroom, but simply fell into step as they walked to her next class. Clary threw him a few confused glances, but kept as silent as he did the entire way.

When they arrived outside of Clary's class, Clary turned to him expectantly, waiting for the reason that Jace had randomly decided to walk her to class.

Her eyes were instantly locked with those dark gold ones the moment they made contact, a strange light to them that had not been there a few moments ago. Jace was looking at her with a strange intensity, and Clary watched, fascinated, as his mouth opened and closed multiple times. It appeared that he was still debating whether or not to voice what he wanted to say. Clary was surprised yet again; she couldn't remember a time when she had witnessed Jace Lightwood unsure of himself.

Jace sighed, and then cleared his throat. "Clary, would you like to go with me to the dance this Friday?" he asked finally. His voice was so quiet that it was almost swallowed by the noise of the hallway, but at the same time there was no way she could have missed his words.

Clary just stood there in shock, leaning against the classroom doorway for support as she looked up into Jace's expectant eyes. Half of her wanted to say yes and jump into his arms, but the other half reminded her about the dangers she saw in Jace; she was already much too close to the edge of falling for him completely. If she accepted his invitation, she might be slipping even closer to that boundary of friendship and… more than friendship. And she couldn't have that, right?

Her arguments sounded pathetically weak, even in her mind.

Clary's thoughts whirled faster as she frantically sought out the reason why she was so mixed up in her feelings about Jace. Why couldn't she just answer him already? It was a yes or no question, not some request to define the meaning of life.

But then a thought crossed her mind: she had already promised Simon that they could go as friends.

Clary's boiling confusion settled back down to a simmer, and she could feel herself noticeably calm down.

"I'm sorry Jace, but I already told someone I would go with him," she explained, letting no trace of her thoughts into her response. Clary's voice was quiet as she looked down at her feet, unwilling to see Jace's expression.

After a moment of silence, Clary peeked up through her hair to hesitantly glance at Jace. His expression was blank, but Clary could see a hint of some inexplicable emotion burning behind his eyes.

"Well alright then," Jace murmured finally, his voice giving nothing away. "I guess I'd better go to class now. See you around."

"Jace, wait," Clary said quickly. She caught his arm as he turned away from her and pulled him back to face her. "I only promised we could go as friends because I felt bad denying him. It doesn't mean anything, I promise."

Wait a second… why was she telling him this? It was the truth, but Clary wasn't sure why she felt the need to reassure Jace of anything. To her relief (although she still wasn't quite sure _why _exactly she was relieved) the expression on his face softened and he gave her a small smile.

"So who's the lucky guy?" Jace asked almost teasingly. He was back to normal already, that strange burning emotion hidden away from his face.

"Simon Lewis," she replied, almost dreading his response. Clary heard Jace try to hold back laughter and stared at him accusingly as he clutched at his stomach in an attempt to stifle his giggles.

"I'm sorry but…he looks like a rat," Jace confessed, once the majority of his chuckles had died down. He continued to smirk, and Clary hit him on the arm.

"He is really sweet, thank you very much," she snapped, annoyed that he had no qualms about insulting her friend. "At least he's not a sarcastic asshat." Clary glared at Jace for a moment, but seeing that he wasn't about to stop smirking, turned and stalked into her class with a humph.

* * *

She passed through the day dazed, thoughts of Jace clouding her mind. When she sat down in the cafeteria next to Isabelle, the only thing she could concentrate on was that Jace had asked her to the dance. A small part of her regretted saying yes to Simon, but the majority of her quickly shut that thought down before any emotion towards Jace could arise.

"Hey Clary, who are you going to the dance with?" Isabelle asked. She leaned in close next to Clary and looked at her with wide, mischievous eyes.

Clary swallowed the bite of sandwich she was chewing and looked shyly at Isabelle. "I promised a guy I would go with him as friends, but it isn't that big of a deal. He's just some guy in my art class."

Isabelle's already wide eyes widened further and she grasped Clary's wrist in a death hold.

"Who, who. who?" she squealed, shaking Clary's arm up and down. It only took one look at Isabelle's eager face for Clary to realize there was no wriggling out of this situation.

"Simon Lewis," Clary informed her, wondering what her reaction would be. Jace had laughed at her, but who knew what Isabelle might do?

Now Isabelle's eyes were so wide that they looked as if they were about to burst out of their sockets. She covered her mouth with her hand in an exaggerated gasp, almost toppling backwards off the bench as she did so.

"The nerdy one?" she exclaimed excitedly. "Oh my gosh, he's so cute! Lucky you!" Isabelle paused briefly in her squealing, looking thoughtful. "But I thought that Jace was going to ask you?"

Clary sighed, remembering the painfully blank expression on Jace's face when she had said no. "He did, but Simon asked me last week," Clary explained. "I can't just ditch him can I?"

"Ohhhh," Isabelle realized, wincing sympathetically. The two girls stood there quietly for a moment, when suddenly Isabelle brightened and broke into a wide grin. "Oh, Clary, I have the solution!" she squealed. "We can go as a group! I can take Simon off of your hands for the night, and then you can have Jace." Isabelle winked suggestively at Clary.

Clary reddened at the teasing, but in her mind the idea excited her more than it should have.

Now what the hell did that mean?

* * *

Clary looked at Simon out of the corner of her eye as he walked with her to her locker. He had offered to carry her canvas for her, since she couldn't possibly carry both her books and her painting. She couldn't help but to compare him with Jace, and saw that the differences between them were so great.

From his hair that was always carefully combed and hung slightly over his eyes and the glasses that were perched on his nose on the precarious edge of falling off, to his gamer t-shirts and untied converse, he was the complete opposite of Jace.

Simon was safer. She had already decided that. But she wasn't so sure if safe was what she wanted. But safe was the reason she had said yes to him in the first place.

As they approached her locker, Clary groaned inwardly when she spotted Isabelle and Jace already there waiting for her. She wasn't sure how Simon interacting with Jace would go, and didn't really want to find out.

"Hey guys," she muttered as Simon stood awkwardly by her locker. She saw Jace glare at Simon, but thankfully, Simon wasn't paying too much attention to him.

Isabelle piped up the moment she saw Simon. "Simon! I heard that you were going with Clary to the dance this Friday. Why don't we all go together? It'll be twice as fun!" She clapped her hands in excitement and shot him a bright smile.

Clary looked over at Simon to see his eyes wide and his mouth open. She nudged him gently and chuckled when he snapped back to attention, dazed by Isabelle.

"Uh, yeah sure. Why not. Where do we meet?" Simon stammered as he continued to stare at Isabelle.

"How about Clary's house? The four of us can go from there. Bye Clary!" She pulled Jace away and left Simon and Clary alone at her locker.

Once they were a safe distance away, Clary turned to Simon with an amused expression.

"I see you fancy Isabelle huh?" Clary inserted slyly.

Simon's eyes grew wide. "Wh-what? I never-,"

"Oh hush. I see the way you look at her. Don't worry, she's all yours at the dance."

Simon gave her a nervous smile which proved her suspicions about his feelings. He shot her a quick goodbye once she had her things and painting under control and jogged off to his locker.

_And Jace is all mine. _Clary pushed the thought away, but it left her feeling ridiculously happy and anxious for Friday.

* * *

"Do you have a date and time?" Valentine's voice echoed throughout the new mansion, and he looked expectantly at the man sitting next to the computer.

"There's a public dance this Friday. There's going to be many people though, so we'll have to be careful." The man nervously turned to Valentine, sweat coating his forehead. He kept his eyes cast towards the floor when addressing Valentine, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Valentine placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh no, that's quite alright. The more people, the more the cover." Valentine smirked and looked out the window, towards the faraway shadow that he knew to be Alicante high school. He was a step closer to taking back what was his.

"Get everything set up. I want this to be done as smoothly as possible."

* * *

**That darned Valentine.**

**Next chapter will be the preperations for the dance, and then the chapter after that will be the dance itself ;)**

**Review review review!**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


	18. Chapter 17

**As promised, here it is. This may or may not be the last update for a while at least, before I go on vacation. I know, another break right after that long 5 month one? Insane!**

**But I don't want to rush the next couple chapters because they're not merely fillers. They have some importance to them, and need to be done right. Now if that will be done after I get back with new inspiration, or very soon, I have no idea.**

**I'm just in for the ride ;)**

**Also, as I've said, the offer for the cover of this story still stands :o**

**A big big thank you to TMI. She had a major hand in this chapter, and she stuck through my long absence. Was ready to get down to it when I decided to show up again :D**

**She's the best c:**

**Another big thanks goes to anyone who is still reading this. Or at least reading it again :D Hopefully I still have some people who have stuck with me ;;**

**AND ON WE GO.**

* * *

"Isabelle, you are CRUSHING ME."

Clary huffed indignantly as Isabelle yanked unmercifully at the zipper of Clary's dress. She had arrived four hours earlier than Clary had thought she would, dragging with her what seemed like endless bags full of makeup and accessories.

"Fashion hurts Clary," Isabelle informed her seriously, swiping red curls out of the way of the zipper's path. "Now suck it up and be a woman."

A couple of yelps and a hard tug later, Clary was zipped up into what looked like a shirt stretched to cover her thighs.

"Isabelle, I look like a hooker." Clary observed bluntly. She stared at herself in the mirror, trying to find an angle where the dress didn't look like it belonged in a strip club.

She didn't find any.

Isabelle thought for a moment and shrugged. "Well it's the only thing I had that looked like it would fit you. Besides, Jace will love it." She winked and turned back to her bags, shuffling through various pots of glitter and makeup.

_I'd rather stuff a squirrel down my shirt, _Clary thought. She tried to force herself to ignore the warmth on her cheeks from the mention of Jace's name. She seriously had to stop reacting so easily to that boy. It was ridiculous that the very sound of his name could make her blush.

A knock on the door broke through Clary's thoughts.

"Is everything all right in there? I heard strange noises." Luke's concerned voice filtered into the room, muffled slightly by the door. Clary groaned, and Isabelle only giggled.

"Everything's fine. I mean aside from the fact the Izzy tried to turn me into a stripper," Clary reported. She stuck her tongue out at Isabelle's indignant glare, causing her friend to let out an injured huff.

"Oh. Clary can I come in?" Luke's voice was quieter now, a hint of nervousness tingeing his tone. Confused, Clary threw on an oversized tee over the slinky dress and let Luke inside. She didn't particularly want him to see her in that embarrassingly tight dress.

Luke stood for a minute in the doorway, awkwardly keeping his hands in his pockets before he cleared his throat and looked up. It was odd seeing Luke in her room, especially when puffs of glitter were being released by Isabelle's bags as she continued to rummage through. It was safe to say Luke wasn't very experienced with teenage girls.

"I think I might have something that could help, Clary," Luke continued slowly, surveying the clothes and glitter strewn across the room. "If you'd follow me…" He turned around and headed back into the hallway. Clary threw a look at Isabelle, who just shrugged, before following Luke out.

He led her down the hall to his bedroom, Clary following close behind. "Wait a moment, I need to dig it out," Luke explained. He walked over and started poking through his closet. Clary perched on the edge of the bed, curious as to what Luke was bringing out for her.

Luke came back out pushing a heavy, dust covered box into the center of the room. Clary leaned over to glance inside of it; it looked like a collection of old photographs and notebooks, at the bottom of which was another box. Luke pulled it out gently and tugged off the lid, his eyes growing slightly misty.

Layers of folded clothes were stacked on the inside, separated by tissue paper. Clary watched silently as Luke picked through it, carefully laying the other clothing aside until he let out a satisfied grunt. It appeared he had found what he was looking for when he pulled out a long, silvery dress.

The gossamer folds floated gently through the air as Luke held it up to show Clary. Wordlessly, she reached over to lightly touch the beautiful fabric, enjoying the feel of the cool dress between her fingers. There were two thin straps at the top, and a trail of delicate flowers was embroidered from the top of the shoulder to the neckline.

"Luke, it's beautiful," Clary whispered, her hands still exploring the material of the dress. There was no comparison between Isabelle's short, slinky club dress and this exquisite gown.

Luke gave a small cough. "It was your mother's when she was about your age," he explained softly. His tone stopped Clary from questioning him further, although she had a million questions to ask. Why did Luke have a dress of her mom's? But then the memory of Luke's eyes as he told Clary about him and Clary's mother flashed back into her head, and she realized; he probably kept it as a memory of her.

"I want you to wear it," Luke said quietly, absently tracing an embroidered flower. "If you'd rather not, then I'd like you to at least keep it. It's more yours than mine." He pressed the dress into Clary's hands and gave her a small smile.

"Thank you Luke. I will definitely wear it," she promised, closing her hands tightly around the dress. Clary gave him a small smile back, and left him sitting on the bed staring into his box of memories as she took the dress back to her room to show Isabelle. She hugged it close to her chest.

_This had belonged to her mother._

Isabelle approved. "It completely messes up my makeup plan, but I'm sure I can come up with something," she decided. Isabelle spun Clary around and yanked the zipper of the club dress back down for her. "Now put it on, I want to see!" She shooed Clary into the dress, waiting impatiently for her to finish as Clary carefully pulled it on. There was no way she was risking harming her mother's dress by hastily tugging at the old fabric.

"It suits your hair. And it fits perfectly!," Isabelle appraised happily. "Where did Luke find this?" Isabelle clapped her hands together in excitement.

Hesitation coursed through Clary as she wondered if she should tell Isabelle or not. But as she looked into her innocent, excited eyes, Clary knew that she was going to cave in and tell her the truth. Isabelle already knew her better than most people anyway; it wouldn't hurt to tell her this. With a sigh, Clary explained to her where Luke got it from.

Isabelle's mouth was open in a small 'o' by the time Clary finished. She didn't say anything, but placed her hand gently on Clary's shoulder.

"I'm glad that you have it now," she whispered.

She steered Clary over to the mirror and sat her down before returning to her Bags of Fun. Clary could sense that the torture was about to begin again and mentally prepared herself for the onslaught. If the dress had been so bad, who knew what Isabelle was planning to do with the makeup?

When Isabelle returned, she could see the tension written across Clary's face and rolled her eyes.

"I swear, I've never met anyone more prone to shy away from her inner femininity than you, Clary," she declared, setting down her weapons of choice nearby.

Clary pouted. "What if I don't want to embrace my inner femininity?" she replied pettishly.

Isabelle leaned in to glare at Clary. "Well too bad. Close your eyes," she ordered.

Barely a second later, a big puffball hit Clary in the face, leaving her coughing and sputtering.

"It's just powder. Now pucker up." Isabelle chided, clucking disapprovingly as she readied her next round of ammo.

Clary did as she was told and felt a slimy substance hit her lips. She was about to protest when Isabelle cut her off.

"Clary Fray if you open your mouth I will have you hanged."

Fearing for the dismemberment of her head, Clary kept her mouth shut for the next torturous half an hour. By the end of it she was starting to get hungry, and had seriously decided that Isabelle needed to reorganize her priorities if she really enjoyed makeup so much.

"And, we are done! Isabelle, you've outdone yourself today," Isabelle complimented herself graciously.

Clary peeked open one of her eyes to inspect herself in the mirror. The face that stared back at her looked hardly like herself. What Isabelle had done brought out the green of her eyes and defined the cheekbones of her face. What she usually considered pale skin was practically glowing, hints of glitter sparkling under the light.

But above all that, Clary saw that she looked like her mom. She could picture her mother sitting in her place, wearing the silver dress, getting her makeup done. It was enough to bring a lump to her throat, and she fought to choke it down. The worst thing she could do was ruin all of Isabelle's hard work by crying all over it, no matter how many memories it brought back.

"Thank you Isabelle. You're amazing at this," Clary murmured, unable to avert her eyes from the mirror.

Isabelle flipped her hair. "I am capable of greatness," she agreed unabashedly. "Now let me get ready. I need to hold my own against you now don't I?" With a wink, she turned to get her dress.

Clary watched as Isabelle expertly did her own makeup in half the time. She looked stunning, even more so than she usually already did. The confidence that radiated out of her was nearly tangible, and Clary couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Her own shy demeanor was infuriating; she could never sparkle like Isabelle did.

"Clary? Snap out of it!" Isabelle's slim fingers were waving at Clary trying to get her attention.

"Sorry Iz, I was just thinking about something," Clary muttered, slightly embarrassed.

One of Isabelle's eyebrows rose. "About Jace, I hope," she said instantly, unable to let an opportunity for teasing pass by.

Clary's face burned at the comment and Isabelle smiled victoriously. "And this is why I didn't add any blush," she informed her smugly. "Now sit up and let me do your hair."

In the end, Isabelle decided to craft a simple bun with a few carefully styled tendrils of hair coming loose, elegantly framing Clary's face.

Isabelle kept her own hair straight down, but wove in a few shimmering ribbons to make it seem to sparkle.

The doorbell rang and Clary could hear Luke open the door. She turned her wide eyes to Isabelle who smiled hugely. "I am guessing those are our dates!" she squealed excitedly. Isabelle grabbed Clary's hand and tugged her speedily down the stairs, leaving Clary to try to keep up in the accursed, completely alien heels Isabelle had managed to shove her into.

The two boys were standing awkwardly at the entryway while Luke held the door open and stared them both down. As Clary and Isabelle approached, all three males turned and stared.

Simon's eyes were on Isabelle, but Clary barely took notice of him. It was like she had tunnel vision, and all she could see was Jace. His golden eyes struck straight through her core, pinning her to the floor where she stood. All of his characteristic golden features were highlighted even more by the all-black attire he was wearing, and it seemed to her that he glowed in the midst of the plain front room. He looked dark and dangerous, and yet angelic at the same time. It was a strange combination, but Jace pulled it off with ease and grace, looking perfectly in his element. He shone.

Clary felt her mouth go dry.

Jace took a step towards Clary, his gold eyes still wide. Clary looked up to see him struggling for words, the intensity of his eyes trapping her. Vaguely, she realized that Simon was politely saying something to Isabelle and Luke, and Isabelle was giggling in reply while Luke spoke. It was all background noise, nothing tugging her focus away from the gorgeous boy in front of her.

Jace gulped. Saying nothing, he reached down to Clary's hair and gently pulled the pins that kept her hair up, letting it fall in a curtain around her. He stepped back and gave a small smile. "I think it looks better this way," Jace murmured quietly, giving her a dazzling smile. "Even though it's really hard for you to look any better than you do," he added slyly. Clary could only smile dumbly in reply, still working on reviving her motor functions.

Luke coughed then, breaking everyone from their daze. Clary looked over at Simon and fearfully noted that he looked like he was going to throw up, while Isabelle nervously giggled.

"If you're all about ready to go then…" Luke continued into the sudden silence, and ushered the tense teenagers out the door.

Jace carefully took Clary's hand and held it gently as they all headed out to the car. Clary could feel the sensation of his fingers in hers all the way up her arm, sending little shocks of excitement running through her veins.

And all she could think was how she never wanted the feeling to stop.

* * *

**Valentine pov**

The high school loomed up in front of them, the bright lights and cheesy decorations looking oddly out of place against the plain school building.

"Now what Valentine?" the man carefully put the van in park a safe distance away from the building. The unaware teenagers had begun to flood to the entrance, providing a safe cover for what they were about to do.

Valentine smirked.

"And now, we wait."

* * *

**:o**

**That darned Valentine. **

**Though I do promise some very-**

**Actually, see for yourself next chapter ;)**

**Once again, thank you TMI.**

**And I hope to see you guys soon~**

**Review, for the first time in a long time!**

**Yours,**

**A.W.W~**


	19. Chapter 18

**So somewhere in my dreams I heard, _Update you *********!_**

**Fill in the blank as you will.**

**So I decided to reply to that oh so kind request by updating :D**

**I'M SORRY OKEH. **

**Cough.**

**Anyways, hi guys! **

**Trust me when I say I will never leave a story unfinished, because I never will. Even if it takes me a year between updates. **

**Hopefully you'll like this chapter :D It's starting to get quite interesting.**

**Moving on~**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

_So this is what a high school dance is._

Clary blinked at the bright lights swirling through the otherwise dark and tastelessly decorated gym. Aside from a few stragglers sipping awkwardly on their drinks at the edge of the gym, everyone was in a hot mass dancing in the center.

Clary glanced down at her hand, which was securely held by Jace's. Somewhere between _then _and _now _Clary had traded off Simon for Jace, who was instead happily drooling over Isabelle behind her. Clary giggled at the sight of the two; the trade was probably for the best.

Jace glanced down at her at her chuckles and smiled with her. Clary's giggles immediately halted, replaced with a bright red blush. Jace smiled even wider.

"Come on," Jace tugged at Clary's hand, "You've probably never danced before have you?"

Clary felt the blush drain from her face, accompanied by the rest of her complexion. "Da-Dance?" Clary somehow managed to choke out, "Jace Lightwood, I do not dance."

Jace shook his head in mock condescension before giving Clary a confident look. "Well Clary, you've never danced with someone as talented as me, have you?" Jace gave another tug at her arm, trying to lead her to the dance floor.

Clary's eyes shifted fearfully to the pool of bodies at the center, all swaying to the beat of the pounding music that filled the space. She felt a burst of claustrophobia make itself known in her stomach, prompting her to shake her head violently no.

"I refuse to be put to such torment." she huffed, and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. There was no way Jace could convince her into stepping into that horrible enclosed mass of teenagers. Who knew what kind of awful things could happen to her in that crushing dance zone? A small part of her mind wondered what would happen if she got stepped on.

This was a legitimate concern, considering her small stature.

Jace scrutinized her for a moment then shrugged.

"I guess I can always find someone else to dance with. Now where's Allison…?" Jace raised his head to the crowd, apparently searching for someone.

For a moment, Clary felt a surge of jealousy and immediately grabbed at Jace's sleeve. Jace looked down and cast a nonchalant glance toward her that read, _have something to say?_

Clary angrily let go of his sleeve and closed her eyes, letting out an annoyed breath before making up her mind and turning back to him. "If I trip and die, I am blaming you," Clary announced haughtily. She narrowed her eyes at him before stalking towards the center. She could sense Jace's smug satisfaction as he followed behind her and her fury grew even hotter. _Maybe if I kicked him in the shins…_

At the edge of the floor, Clary glanced back nervously at Jace who rolled his eyes and pushed her forward, deeper into the crowd.

_You can do this Clary. _She took a deep breath and pushed through to an empty space that she and Jace quickly occupied.

Okay. She was here. No one was stepping on her, and there wasn't even any jostling from the surrounding dancers. No big deal.

Clary turned back to Jace, at a loss of what to do next. "Now what?"

Smirking, Jace stepped closer to Clary, immediately sending off alarms in her head. As Clary stood frozen, Jace's arms slinked around Clary's waist as he leaned down to whisper in Clary's ear. "Now you dance," he murmured.

Through Clary's daze, she registered that Jace was slowly moving them back and forth in their small space, completely in discord with the upbeat song that was playing. She felt the strange gazes at her and Jace by all the astonished kids surrounding them. She could hear the annoyed whispering from Jace's admirers.

But none of that seemed to matter, because all she felt was the searing touch of Jace's hands at her waist, and all she could see was the lazy grin that curled at his mouth.

As the initial euphoria of this new experience called dancing began to fade away, Clary studied Jace a little closer. She would never admit it to him aloud, but the artist in her was reveling in the opportunity to be this close to someone so beautiful. In the dim lights, his eyes seemed to smolder even more than they usually did, a feat Clary had previously not imagined possible. His eyes and his hair made the sharp contrast between him and his black suit, painting him in all black and gold.

That was what everyone else could see. But Clary saw even further; she was the pained little boy that Jace had only shown to her once before, at his house. She saw the change the boy had to go through to stand where he was now: an impenetrable wall of sarcasm and arrogance. She saw the moments of weakness that passed through him sometimes, the ones that he hid so well from the rest of the world.

When Clary had first met Jace, she hadn't expected him to have any deeper layer, and still had a hard time believing it completely. How could this boy, so confident and proud, have ever been hurt before?

Jace's sudden smile pulled her out of her thoughts. "Thinking about me, aren't you?" he asked, giving her a knowing look. His arrogant smirk pushed away any thoughts she had about him being weak.

Clary looked down and blushed, but gently nodded anyway. Now was not the time to be shy with him. "It doesn't mean I forgive you for this torture," she replied smoothly. Clary sent a sharp look at him, narrowing her eyes.

Jace's arms suddenly constricted around her further, and she gave a yelp as she was pulled even closer to him. Her head was pressed flat to his chest now, his face disappearing from her view.

"Are you sure about that?" Jace chuckled as he leaned his chin atop her head.

_Breathe Clary. _Her thoughts were muddled as she tried to sort through for a response. All she could come up with was, "Didn't I already say that I wasn't ready to date you?"

She could have smacked herself. Why did she choose to say that, of all things? Did she want this dance to end, for him to go find another girl to dance with?

"This isn't necessarily dating, now is it?" Jace retorted matter-of-factly. He continued to spin Clary around in their bubble on the dance floor.

Deep down, Clary knew she didn't mind exactly what this was. It seemed to her it was time to give in to what she wanted, regardless of the fact she may just be picking her poison.

But then again, she didn't really care anymore.

* * *

_VALENTINE_

Valentine's distaste for the security guard attire was obvious as he pulled at the cheap cloth covering him. But that didn't matter; his objective for tonight clouded his mind far too much for this minor inconvenience to take too much precedence in his thoughts. He stood outside the school, the sound of music dully filling the air.

Raising the walkie-talkie in his hand to his mouth, he whispered, "All clear?"

A muffled reply gave the yes signal, and he quickly entered the building while avoiding the eyes of all of the people lingering in the hallways.

Valentine turned down a few hallways and halted at a door labeled _Ladies. _He turned towards the door leading outside that was conveniently close by, and checked to see if it was open.

_Good, _he thought; the door was unlocked from the inside.

With a quiet disapproving scoff at the school's security, Valentine picked up the walkie-talkie to send a final signal:

"Sebastian, get ready."

After a moment, a brief bout of static came through before Valentine heard the reply.

"You got it, Pops."

* * *

**Ah, I was waiting for this.**

**But first!**

**A big thank you to TMI who graciously accepts my ridiculous updating and doesn't throw the chapter back in my face. You da best girl!**

**Review guys :D? I missed you lovelies ;;**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**Yours,**

**~A.W.W**


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